VIRUS
by Chameleon2
Summary: Marauder time. The breakout of a virus in the Forest has repercussions for Moony. Peter has issues. James and Sirius enjoy being obnoxious.
1. Default Chapter

VIRUS.

1. Souvenirs from the Forest.

The infirmary smelled of ether, although very faintly, and of broth, soap, freshly made beds and a hint of pain. Sometimes a whiff of a female scent, perfume, shampoo and filed nails blew through the room past his bed, and whenever it did the infirmary's only occupant twitched with his nose and tried to burrow deeper into his pillows. He was still asleep, and very human at the moment, but so shortly after the change his senses were still unusually keen, and his nose and ears were still busy filtering the scents and sounds out of the air, as they had done last night.

A soft swish: the soundless opening of the door, made his eyes flutter behind his closed eyelids, and as he breathed in two more personal scents painted figures on his mind.

Two males, but young, barely more than boys. One of them was wearing aftershave, the other smelled of soap and broom cleaning utensils.

"Hello James. Sirius." The boy in the bed spoke up without opening his eyes, and for one moment he heard a shocked silence. Remus smiled. As he opened his eyes he saw absolutely no one, then the bed beside him became blurry and James ripped the invisibility cloak away.

"Damn it, Moony," he said with mock anger and less than mock awe, "you just know how to spoil all surprises, don't you?" Sirius, appearing next to him, elbowed him in the side.

"You know the man's scary. But we," this to Remus, who had pushed himself up to a sitting position, "have been through much more scarier things this morning."

"O really?" Remus drawled. "Is that why Peter's missing?"

"Nah. Peter's just lusting after Cynthia Catterwall again." Both Remus and James chuckled. According to Sirius, Peter was 'having issues' and every few weeks those issues changed. The last month the issues concerned the stunning seventh year Cynthia Catterwall, who was about a foot taller than Peter and had once commented that he was such a sweet little boy when he'd helped her gather her things when her handbag tore. Sirius had called Peter 'my sweet little boy' for three weeks, until Peter seriously threatened to throttle Sirius and, more importantly, seemed quite capable of doing so. Sirius now left Peter alone, but whenever the smaller boy was missing, he was either lusting after, seducing or spying on Cynthia. According to Sirius.

"Right," Remus grinned. "So why aren't you recording his actions—as usual?"

"Tracking spell," Sirius replied without missing a beat, just as James said, "Never mind about Peter. Today the greatest thing happened." Sirius began to laugh, and James burst into giggles as well.

"So what happened? First you say it was scary, now you laugh about it. What happened?"

"Well," Sirius grinned widely. "You know we had History this morning?"

"Yes…"

"So, we all went into the classroom and were all paying attention and carefully noting down all Binns said…"

"Nobody ever looks at the man—face it, he's boring AND ugly, so nobody actually noticed that anything was out of the ordinary until Wesley wondered why Binns was looking so white and transparent today…" Sirius whooped, then hastily covered his mouth with his hands. For a moment neither boy could say a word, and Remus was laughing too, now, already expecting what had happened but not quite believing it yet.

"So we were all, for once, looking at Binns," James continued, wiping his wet eyes, "when McGonagall literally burst into the room,"

"Saucy wench," Sirius growled.

"And looked at Binns, going all red and white in a matter of seconds…"

"Very fetching too," informed Sirius.

"Shut up! Stop interrupting me."

"Anyway," Sirius took over, ignoring his friend, "Class ended and McGonagall gathered us all around and…" He bit his lip, then blurted out, "She said she was delighted to tell us that Professor Binns had unfortunately died in his sleep but was still able to teach class, and that she would not have to change our curriculum." He guffawed, and Remus doubled up in his bed.

"He's…he's really teaching?" he chortled. James grinned broadly.

"He probably didn't even notice he died."

"Whereas you certainly would!" A stern feminine voice rang out. The three boys froze like rabbits caught in the headlights. Madam Pomfrey, even though she was quite young and, according to Sirius, had a figure like a well-tuned violin, ruled the infirmary with an iron fist. She could not take points from the houses or give the boys detention, but she could make one feel like a helpless three-year-old if she chose to, and her revenge consisted of administrating the most foul-tasting potions when one was ill and surrendered to her mercy. Remus, meeting the afore mentioned terms at least once a month, pulled up his thin shoulders and stopped laughing immediately. Sirius and James, wide-eyed with shock, suddenly broke down in chuckles again.

"I'm sorry, Madam Pomfrey," James apologised. "We meant to break the rules quietly, but…"

"Professor Binns…" Sirius added with a barely contained smile, "We though Remus could do with some good news." The witch's mouth quirked up briefly, but then her face was straight again.

"I can't see where the death of a colleague could enhance the well-being of mister Lupin here." she said. Sirius quailed.

"But…he's still teaching."

"He isn't really dead—well, rather, actually, but…" Madam Pomfrey rolled her eyes. 

"_Lumuros_." In a few paces she was next to Remus's bed, tipped his chin up and shone with the tip of her wand in his eyes. His pupils shrank to pinpoints, flaring out again as soon as she took the wand away.

"Ow!"

"Are you well enough to return to your classes?" Remus nodded, blinking his eyes rapidly to get rid of the dancing spots in his vision. "Then off with you—all of you! And the next time I catch you two waking him up, mister Black and mister Potter, I will personally make sure that you won't be having any heart, liver or bowel worms this semester. Am I quite clear?"

"Very clear, ma'am." Sirius bowed and James pressed his hand to his heart. 

"But she doesn't mean it," James said as they ran to the hall for lunch.

"No, she's actually very nice. You're lucky getting to be treated by her so often, Moony." Remus smirked. He still felt a little wobbly on his feet, and his head seemed a long distance from the ground.

"Ye-es," he said. "You cannot imagine the kind of bonding you do with the person who's stuffing sleeping potion down your throat while you try to bite her in the arms. I still have the taste of dragonhide in my mouth." James grinned.

"Dragonhide gloves eh? D'you recon she has dragonhide boots as well?" Sirius frowned.

"That's not the kind of thing you should want to know, James Potter. What if Lily found out you were snooping around in Pomfrey's closets?" 

"I've done no such thing! Besides, with a little luck she'd want to have dragonhide boots as well."

"Why stop with boots? She'd look great in leather trousers."

"Yes, she would. But I can't get her into such clothing."

"Why the hell not?"

"She says she feels fat in tight jeans, let alone leather trousers."

"Fat? Lily isn't fat! She's got a lovely arse."

"And how would you know?"

"Well excuse me, mister Potter, but I happen to be the one who introduced her to you…"

"And before introducing her to me, knowing that I was literally…er…"

"Moping." Remus suggested, and pushed the door to the dining hall open.

"Moping," James picked up, "for her, you first decided to check out her arse."

"Of course," They wove through a throng of leaving first years and sat down at the Gryffindor table, "I couldn't introduce my best friend to a girl with an ugly arse, could I?" He made a grab for the rolls, obtained four, and distributed them among his friends and himself. "I could even…hi Peter!" this to the small stout boy pushing in between James and Sandie Montague, "I could even tell you tales about certain…situations…involving Lily…and Padfoot…and peanut butter…"

"No!" James looked aghast; Sirius's grin was pure evil.

"Prongs," Remus briefly looked up from his heaped plate, "Padfoot didn't even _exist_ when you started dating Lily. Where is she, by the way? It's as if everybody's trying to avoid me."

"What?" Sirius whispered. "You can't remember that you…" But he stopped as his friend's grey-brown eyes grew large and fearful, and slapped him on the shoulder. "Calm down, Moony. You didn't do anything. As far as I know Lily's in the library. Where else, anyway? She's probably doing research on the mating habits of unicorns."

"Centaurs," James corrected. "And it's cultural habits, not mating habits. I swear, Sirius, do you ever think about anything…never mind, don't answer.

Ah, look, isn't that Goyle?" His voice had gone up a few decibels, and everybody at their table looked up and snickered when the heavy-set boy shuffled through the back of the hall towards the Slytherin table. "Isn't his hair a wonderful colour of purple?"

"Purple?" Emily Endale mused aloud a few seats onwards. "I rather think it's pink."

"No, no," Sirius protested, "definitely purple. At least, that was the idea. He paid so much attention to my purple sweater last week that I just couldn't leave him standing there empty-handed—or in this case, blond-headed."

"I still think it's pink." maintained Emily, and a short verbal fight broke out between her and Sirius, in which the latter said that it could not be pink because he did not wear pink, and the former claimed that he should get his sight checked for colour blindness, because Goyle's hair was as pink as pink possibly could be. Soon, the whole table was arguing about the colour of Goyle's hair, until Sirious declared that if nobody could make out what colour exactly Goyle's hair had, he would move over to the Slytherin table and ask what the subject of the matter thought of it himself. Both Peter and Remus grabbed him by his robes when he made to stand up.

"Are you mad! Sit down!"

"If Dorkham finds out you nicked chameleon tongues again you'll be cleaning toilets till next week!" Sirius let himself be ushered back, although he made a show of pretending to pull himself free.

"But I can't live with this suspense! Is it purple or pink?"

"Live with it."

"Or ask him during Care of Magical Creatures," James suggested, still grinning. "We're still doing hogsloaths. They aren't bound to wake up anytime soon." He clacked his tongue. "Was that the bell? I swear, they want us to starve. How can you possibly eat enough to last you for the rest of the day _and_ discuss the colour of other people's hair in half an hour?"

"Slave drivers, that's what they are," Peter muttered with a sad expression, and gathered his bag from beneath the table. "How're you doing, Remus? I couldn't come visit you because…" A blush of embarrassment coloured his round cheeks, and Remus smiled.

"It's alright. I'm fine now. And you'll all be late for CMC."

"Oh. Yes. Bye!" Peter set off at a trot, pulling James with him.

"Told you." Sirius hissed as he slung his satchel over his shoulder. "He's having issues. See you at Transfiguration."

Of the Marauders, Lupin was the only one who still took Divination. Sirius had quit because after the second lesson his mockery clouded professor Trelawney's inner eye. When she had told him so, Sirius had fallen to the ground in hysterics and James laughed so hard that he complained about torn belly muscles for a week. They both had been wise enough not to come back, because Trelawney at that point had stopped resembling an overlarge butterfly and looked remarkably like an angry wasp.

"She's been prophesising your death all week," Remus grinned the following Friday. "She's been telling everybody you'll meet a very nasty fate indeed."

"Did she?" asked Sirius, and James as well was curious how his life would end. At that point Lupin had felt inclined to inform his two friends that they would sadly perish the next week on Tuesday, Thursday and Friday, killed by a fall off a broomstick (like hell, James snorted); choked on a chicken bone (I'll just eat beef, Sirius decided); drowned in the lake, pulled down by the Giant Squid (It's autumn! Why on earth would we go out to the lake and swim?); exploded during a spell going horribly awry (I'll buddy up with Snape, James chuckled. Take him with me when I go); clubbed to death by the Whomping Willow (well _she_ obviously doesn't know what knot to push, said Sirius), and several other incidents. The fact that now, three years later, they were still alive, Sirius generously attributed to the fact that Trelawney's inner eye had been all clouded up.

            Peter stopped attending class after Trelawney predicted a terrible accident that actually befell to him.

"It's bad enough making up the future without actually have it happening to you," he said morosely, when the others came to visit him in the infirmary. "She gives me the creeps with that misty voice of hers."

"I feel that she'll be very sad to see you go," James whispered mistily. Remus smiled.

"Yes, I think so too. You must be the first person in ages to actually fall through the stairs after she'd predicted it."

"I wouldn't have fallen, if she hadn't told me I would," Peter muttered. "I thought it would mean I'd fall down the stairs, not through them." After that, he decided that Muggle studies were less frightening than Divination, and disappeared. 

Now, only a handful of sixth years sat in professor Trelawney's smoky abode, staring in spheres and tealeaves, drawing stellar maps and seeing figures in smoke. Trelawney had long ago sensed that the tall, lanky boy with the slow smile and the dreamy eyes was not like other children his age, and continually urged him to tell her what he saw in whirls of smoke and the mirroring surface of his crystal ball. Remus didn't know if he had 'the talent' as she called it, but he did indeed see things. Only it was the same thing again and again. The moon. Round and swollen; thin, like a knife's edge; half full, like a smile. He never told her what he actually saw, but somehow he was credible. That suited him just fine, for it meant that he did not have to do much to keep his marks high.

            This lesson served as an hour to rest and recover from the enormous amount of food he had consumed at lunch. Changing always made him ravenous, and the heavy scent of incense combined with a full stomach rendered him as slow and lazy as a snail dipped in honey syrup.

_I wonder,_ he thought as he stared through half-closed eyes at his thin, gauzy teacher, _why she's wearing those glasses. She always takes them off when she wants to see something. _In a fit of inventiveness he moved the piece of parchment he had used to take notes (moon in Venus—you'll be born with excessive hair-growth) and wrote _Quiz of teachonal habits._

_Q. 1. Why does Professor Trelawney wear glasses?_

_She needs them to see clearly._ _She needs them to keep from seeing clearly._ _She likes to look like an insect._

He tapped his quill against his teeth, studying the thin woman in front of the class as she waved her hands in mysterious patterns, and scribbled, _d. She wears them solely to catch the light and reflect it back into your eyes._

Satisfied with his new pastime, he was busy for the rest of the hour writing down the names of all the other teachers and thinking up questions, until Sidh Patil gave him a push and Trelawney repeated, "Have you heard a single thing I've been saying, mister Lupin?"

"So sorry, Professor," he replied, "I was still writing." He flashed her an innocent, guilty smile and was acquitted with a forgiving beam. _You're just too easy to fool, woman._

"As I was saying," his teacher went on, "next week we will try to see past the veil of the mind. I will provide the necessary ingredients to unveil the Outer World, but I want you to bring _Past the Veil_ and _Find your inner poise: unfogging yourself_, both by Vablatsky." Remus grinned to himself, and next to him he heard Sidh chuckle as well.

"With all the books she's written about unfogging, she must be as unfogged as is humanly possible," the boy said softly, and swiped his crystal ball and his notes carelessly into his satchel. 

"Quite." Remus replied in a whisper. "I wonder were she lives. Vablatsky sounds Russian, doesn't it? Maybe she lives up in the mountains where she never sees anything but clouds."

"Oh, and class?" Professor Trelawney sing-songed while they were all filing out of the room, "next week will be double Divination. For those who usually have Transfiguration after this class, sign your names on this piece of parchment so I can notify Professor McGonagall."

Sidh raised his eyebrows.

"Wow. This must be some serious unveiling we're going to do."

"I don't like it one bit," a Slytherin girl muttered beneath her breath. "McGonagall'll have a cow when she finds out that we're not wasting one but two hours next week _and_ do it in her time as well." Remus completely agreed with her, but he didn't say anything, even though he was right behind her in line for the name list. However right she was, she was still Slytherin.

"Double Divination? You lucky guy!" James said, with feeling. "McGonagall won't have a cow, she'll have an elephant."

"Aw, it's not that bad. I'm actually kind of looking forward to it." Sirius sadly shook his head.

"You poor man, your head must be completely befuddled by all that incense she's burning."

"There's Lily! Hey Lily!" Lily Evans trotted up to where they were standing, her arms full of books, as usual, and the tip of her thick red braid wet and black with ink. Peter was close behind her.

"Hello! And hello to you to, Remus. Are you okay?"

"Never been better."

"Liar. Highly unappealing, those bags beneath your eyes."

"He's just had Divination, love," James said, grinning. "Cut him some slack."

"Cut him a whole box of it," interjected Sirius, gallantly holding the door. "He'll have a double portion of it next week."

"Oh, you poor baby!"

"Oh, you poor baby," a nasal voice whined from behind of them, and Severus Snape fluttered his hands in the air in maternal worry. "What is it this time, Lupin? Fleas again? Did they change the cutlery to silver again?"

"Shut your mouth, will you, Snape?" Remus requested with a feral smile. "Last time you threatened me you ended up in the Astronomy tower without any clothes on, so keep it down a bit." Snape's face fell, but the nasty smile climbed back within seconds.

"Just watch it, Lupin. And you too, Black. I'm not through with you yet."

"Bite me!" Sirius snapped, and turned his back on him. McGonagall strode into the class room, her high heels tapping sharply on the stones.

"Alright, settle down please," she said, and waited the fifteen seconds she always waited until everybody was seated, and took her place behind the large desk in front, where she almost disappeared behind a pile of small square cages.

"Now. Today we will discuss the last chapter of _Animagi through the Ages_. I hope you've all practiced diligently, and have found out whether you have any inclination towards animagism. For those who have, I will pass on a list. Write down your name, house and the animal form you want to practise. Those who write their names on the list can apply for personal coaching—although I can't make any promises as to whether you'll succeed or not. As I have told you many times, and as you've probably found out yourself, it requires a lot of mental strength and talent to pick an animal shape and hold it for longer periods.

Yes, mister Snape?" Snape lowered his hand.

"Professor, isn't it prohibited to become an animagus without proper coaching?" McGonagall's eyes flashed. She knew all about the accident last year, and it had cost James and Sirius a lot of her affection, but Snape's continual vindictiveness, his attempts at exposing Lupin and his general unpleasantness made her bristle like an angry cat.

"I would even say that it is impossible to become an animagi without proper coaching," she said curtly, and slapped the list down on the front most table. "Everybody who's interested can write down his or her name. And now I'd like you all to come forward and pick up one of these cages. In it, you'll find a field mouse. By the end of class, I want to have sixteen canaries. _Yellow_ canaries, miss Oliver! Not grey ones. Now, carry on!"

A few minutes later James was idly prodding his canary with his wand and turning it all the colours of the rainbow. Sirius had left his bird ears and a thin pink tail, and Peter, who had surprisingly proved to be McGonagall's best student, had already placed his perfect canary on the side of his table and was now doing his Muggle studies homework. Lily wasn't as good at Transfiguration as the Marauders, and she was swearing softly as her songbird gazed up at her balefully with eyes the size of pinpricks, and attacked her wand with its toothy little beak.

Remus leaned his head on his hand, smiling as he looked at the unfortunate mouse-birds and bird-mice as they squeaked and twittered in their cages. His own canary was now singing joyfully, but it still had small claws instead of wings, and it looked rather comical. 

_Q. Why is McGonagall's animagus form a cat?_ He grinned, combed his bangs out of his face… and froze. Felt again. He hadn't been wrong: there was a little bump on his head. And right next to it, another. And another a bit more to the top. Small, round bumps, which he could move all around, like…

Ticks. A feeling like ice water running down his back made him shiver in his seat.

_O my god. If Snape finds out, I'm dead. I'm dead!_ Trying to look as inconspicuous as possible, he rubbed his fingers all over his scalp, wincing as they connected with yet another small bulge, and counted seven ticks altogether. _I must've gotten them yesterday, in the Forest. Madam Pomfrey must've overlooked them—why should she be checking my hair anyway…o damn!_ Now he had noticed them, it was impossible to ignore them. He wondered how he could not have felt the itching, stinging sensation before, it was almost unbearable. _And I have to get them off. I have to! What if they fall off in class?_ In his mind's eye, he could already see one of those fat, grey, filled to bursting ticks fall out of his hair, and Snape picking it up, and showing it to everybody all around…Abruptly he stood up and pushed Peter, who was sitting next to him, aside.

"Let me through."

"What is it?"

"Let me through."

"Mister Lupin?" McGonagall asked. "Is something the matter? Have you transfigured your mouse?" The Slytherins looked up from their test object, snickering already, prepared to ridicule openly if possible.

"I have to go to the bathroom." Lupin said, and he was appalled at the quiver in his voice. The ticks felt as if they were as big as apples. Sirius's, Lily's, James's and Peter's eyes were in his back, worried and questioning, but the rest of the students suddenly felt like so many bombs, ready to go off.

"Are you…"

"I'm fine! I just need to go to the bathroom!" And before she had opened her mouth to tell him that she would not have students interrupting class by going to bathrooms or other sanitary stops, he had bolted from the room and into the nearest toilet. Thankfully no one was there apart from a first year who was washing his hands in front of the mirror, and he quickly left when Remus pointed at the door.

"_Solitus_." A lock appeared on the door, and he shut it quickly. In the stark light, his face looked like a skull, the effects of the change lingering in the circles beneath his eyes, which were now wide with panic, and his skin a pasty white. He parted his hair in front of the mirror, searched until he found at tick and looked at it, revolted. It was not grey, as he had imagined, but black, and looked a lot smaller than it had felt.

_So, how do you remove them? Twist them clockwise or counter clockwise?_

He'd had ticks a few times before. Once, when he was small, he'd spent his night in the dunes, and the next morning he'd been literally covered with ticks. It had taken his mother more than an hour to pull them all out. The very memory of it made him feel sick.

_It doesn't matter. They'll have to come out, it doesn't matter if it hurts._ He took the small round arachnid between the nails of index finger and thumb, twisted and pulled. The tick held on for a second, then came off with a small snap. Remus threw it into the basin, rinsed it away and went on the next tick. This one took longer to remove, and when he looked at the thing in the basin, Remus wasn't quite sure it still had a head. _Doesn't matter. Next one._ It took him five minutes to remove all seven ticks, and apart from the second one, they came out whole. The tiny wounds they had left were hardly painful, and perfectly invisible in the shaggy mass of his hair. He sighed, relieved and suddenly very tired.

_Sometimes I wonder why I even bother trying to be human,_ he thought, rubbing his forehead. But then he pulled himself together, straightened his robes and removed the lock. He had managed so far, and he would continue managing, thank you very much. _If only to irritate Snape and co._ Taking a deep breath, he opened the door, and ran back to the class room.

To be continued…


	2. VIRUS2

Whoops, forgot the disclaimer in the first chapter. I always forget those, so this will be my disclaiming chapter. Ahum: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made (though I could really, really use it) and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. If I use ideas from other fanfics without mentioning them, please mail me so I can rightfully quote. I've read so many fics by now I can't possibly tell whose ideas I might be using, although Cassandraclaire's (from theDraco trilogy) probably one of them.

Those who reviewed already, after one day, thanks! I really appreciate it! On with chapter 2.

2. Canaries, plans, and invitations.

McGonagall only raised her eyebrow when he got back in, but did not take any points from Gryffindor nor ask what he had been up to. The reaction of his friends was much the same, if a little more curious, but he just shrugged and smiled.

_I'm fine._ After six years of secrecy and changing, they knew better than to question him.

Transfiguration ended, and sixteen canaries were handed in, most looking just fine, some looking rather odd, with fur instead of feathers, or teeth in their beaks, or sprouting whiskers. On the whole, though, McGonagall seemed pleased enough, and she declared that the upcoming OWLs should not have them quivering like jelly, because apart from the few hopeless among them, they were really doing well. Lily sighed.

"That really makes me feel so talented." James grinned.

"I don't think she counted you among the hopeless. Did you see Avery's canary? It whistled between its teeth!"

"Mine still had teeth as well."

"But it didn't have ears."

"No…"

"Lil…"

"Be glad you don't excel at something for a change," Sirius said. "You'd be perfectly horrible. And horribly perfect. Look at your career: Prefect, Head Girl, Cheerleader leader…"

"Only during the weekends," Lily said, and laughed. "Speaking of weekends, Ed Zoë and the Weavers're having a gig in the Three Broomsticks this Saturday. I thought we could all go together."

"Sure," Sirius nodded. "We'll ask Cynthia to come as well."

"Sirius!" Peter whined.

"What is it, my sweet little boy?"

"SIRIUS!" The taller boy skipped easily out of his friend's flailing hands' reach.

"I actually kind of fancy her myself. No, really. She's smart, cute, and she turned that silly Hufflepuff Chanceny down, which really is admirable." He slung his satchel over his shoulder and put his hands in his pockets with an air of finality. "Yup. I'll ask her out. If you don't mind, of course." Peter pouted, but the rest only shrugged.

"Go ahead. Ask and weep when she turns you down as well," Remus combed his hand through his hair and winced slightly. "You can lend my shoulder to cry out on, but do give me a warning before you start, so I can hang a towel over it."

"Which reminds me," deadpanned Sirius, "that Moony needs a date as well. I mean, James's got Lily, right, I'll have Cynthia, Peter'll have…"

"Cynthia," Lily supplied with a grin, "because she likes threesomes." Sirius's dark eyes bulged.

"She does?"

"How should I know?"

"Damn. Well, anyway, Peter and I will duel for the graces of Cynthia, which leaves Remus unaccounted for."

"I can do battle as well?"

"D'you think she'll be into foursomes?" James asked, and Sirius shook his head.

"No. I can best Peter, easily…"

"Hey!" Peter yelled crossly.

"But Remus might just pose a bit of a challenge."

"What if I just pretend to fight," Remus proposed, and opened the door to the back yard, where the Ravenclaws were already assembling, "and let you win after fist tearing up your clothes? Women're supposed to swoon over battered men, aren't they?" But Sirius looked doubtful.

"I like my clothes whole."

"You can repair them with a single spell." Peter piped up.

"No no no, that would undo the attraction of it. If you go for the ladies' sentiment, you must go for it all the way, and no repairing. Imagine how terribly uncool Morpheus the Marvelous's death would've been if he'd been lying dying in Aricula's cream-white arms, getting kissed and wept upon, and then, while she's rending her…what was it?"

"Her milky bosom," Lily supplied.

"Right, her milky bosom—dreadful business, that—with her nails and tearing at her raven locks, he suddenly says, "Calm down, love, it's merely a flesh wound," and heals himself with a single spell." James shook his head.

"Awful. The epitaph of cowardliness."

"Not manly at all."

"Although it would make the play a lot shorter."

"Moony!" Lily brought her hand to her face in mock despair. "Igular Moonflow devoted his whole life to that play! Lords and ladies cried for days after witnessing the anguish and pain of Morpheus and his beloved sister."

"Am I glad he only lived for thirty-two years! Imagine he'd become sixty. Sixty years of anguish and pain for those two wibbling idiots." Lily opened her mouth to disagree, or perhaps to agree, but at that moment professor Cactuar opened the greenhouse, letting out a great cloud of steam, and told them to come in. "And keep close together now," he added with his sharp Portuguese accent, "the giant Venus fly traps are in a very foul and hungry mood. I wish Hagrid would hurry up with those rats."  

"Ugh." a small, prettily plump Ravenclaw girl muttered, and Remus smiled at her. A few years ago he'd had a terrible crush on this girl, but he'd kept it a secret—from her, but mostly from Sirius and James and Peter. James, perhaps, would have understood why he did not want to make out with her, and he would have kept silent…but he would have told Sirius, and although Sirius was his best friend, after James, and fun to be around, he could be terribly insensitive. Secrets were safe with Sirius—if you didn't mind being confronted with them at inappropriate times. 

Now he was past the butterfly stage and able to look her in the face without turning beet red, and it was safe to talk to her.

"It's a pretty romantic idea, isn't it?" he whispered, loud enough for her to hear. "Some people go and feed bread to ducks. Others fill a basket with rats and feed Venus fly traps." The girl giggled, and shot him a look.

"Are you asking me out for a date, Remus?" _Or maybe I'm not past that stage after all,_ he thought with mild self-discrimination, as he felt his cheeks flush hotly. But he said that he might be, if she cared to bring the rats, and after that they had no chance to talk anymore, because professor Cactuar split them up in teams of three and told them to de-lice the Hungarian _moralis moralis_, and to put the lice in baskets. "And make sure that you don't miss a single one," he added as they all obediently began to pluck the greenish lice from the slender stems and the fingered leaves, "because they become highly toxic when they're left to eat for too long."

"Remind me never to eat _moralis moralis_," muttered James, and scooped a handful of lice from his plant into the basket.

"Why?" Peter asked. "Afraid you'll become toxic?"

"Toxic is nice. No, imagine you take a healthy bite and find out that you're having a mouthful of lice instead. Eew." Sirius grinned.

"Sissy."

"Me, a sissy? As if you'd…"

"You're a wuss, James me boy. Afraid of a little lice."

Fwap! Sirius wiped a thick glob of green creatures from his nose. "And you are also very dead when we start Quidditch practice," he added darkly, and then, to the disgust of all who were paying attention, he licked his fingers clean and grinned. "They don't taste that bad, actually, James. You should try some as well."

Quidditch practice left Peter and Remus together, since Lily and the rest of the Marauders were all part of the team. Peter did not fly because he was afraid of heights, as he claimed, and Remus liked flying so much he didn't dare play. Flying, he found out long ago, was like running, but infinitely faster and more dangerous. When he flew, it was just as when he was a wolf: he could go so _fast_, so easily, so far and so _high_. The air whipped all those scents into his face, and the faster, the higher he went, the more scents he would smell, and the happier he was. When he flew, he forgot everything else, even the game, and that was unforgivable. So he remained on the ground and watched his friends feint and swerve, and tried not to feel jealous.

"Moony?" Not taking his eyes off James, who was practicing dives, he made an affirmative sound. "Were you serious about Cynthia?"

"Cynthia? Oh, in that way. No, not really. Why?"

"Um…" This time he did look at Peter, and he fought down a bubble of mirth as he looked at the doodle in the earth the other boy had been making. A doodle of a big-chested woman. _Peter's having issues indeed._

"Don't tell me you really are in love with her." Peter's small eyes widened, then he looked away. "You are?"

"Don't tell Sirius."

"I…of course I won't." They were silent for a while, studying the Gryffindor team as it spun and dodged. "That was a close call, during Transfiguration," Lupin finally said. "If Snape ever stops insinuating and comes out of the closet for real…"

"Then we're screwed."

"Worse. We'll be expelled."

"I had that one filed under 'screwed'." Peter murmured. "But he doesn't know we're animagi, does he? I mean, we hadn't transformed yet. All he saw…"

"Was me. But he's never told anyone I'm a werewolf…not directly. All he does is hint."

"Be glad the Slytherins are so thick," Peter said, and sketched nipples on his doodle. "Or they'd have found out long ago." He looked up as a dull 'thwap!' resounded over the field, and one of the beaters went down with a cry. "Outch!"

"What did he do?"

"Bludger full on the nose, as far as I can see." They both ran onto the pitch, where the whole team and several bystanders were now standing around a large boy, who had his hands cupped around his nose and was bleeding all over the place. Sirius was conjuring tissues, and pushing them beneath the boy's hands, while Lily kept shouting that he should take his hands away so she could have a look at it.

"If bwokem," the boy said, pulling back whenever she came close enough to pry his hands loose, "if bwokem, go away!"

"Well, then I can try to heal it, can't I?" she shot back furiously. The boy shook his head.

"Pomfrey." She placed her hands on her hips.

"Pomfrey!? Are you saying you don't trust me to heal you? I'm the best of M.S. class! I've been patching up scrapes and fractures all year!" He laughed in a nasally sort of way.

"Yeah…am wook ap fe refulpf." James laughed aloud.

"Now come on, Creevey! My elbow's almost back to normal."

"That was a complicated fracture," Lily muttered, but she stepped back and did not protest anymore when Creevey's girlfriend, a Ravenclaw girl called Cindy, led him away to the infirmary. James kissed her in the neck.

"_I _did appreciate the effort." Lily grumbled, but smiled when he kissed her again a couple of times and pushed him away gently.

"I've noticed.

So, what do we do now? Where's Richard? We need another Beater." A fourth year shook his head.

"He's got detention. Filch caught him on his way to the Astronomy Tower last night."

"Ah…" They all looked despondent, feeling for the poor boy. "Although of course he should've known better than to walk about the premises at night," James added, drawing from Head Boy authority, and then all Gryffindors chuckled.

"Yeah, right," Liza Wood, a seventh year Chaser and also the Team Captain, snorted. "As if you're such a saint."

"I never get caught." James argued. "So you might say I'm a saint indeed."

"Basin please!?" Sirius inquired, weakly waving his hand in the air. "I think I'm going to be sick…"

"Be a man, Sirius. We can't spare another Beater. Now, where do we find another one? I don't want to stop practicing now; the weather is excellent and I DON'T EVER WANT TO LOSE FROM HUFFLEPUFF AGAIN! It's just too embarrassing. Ravenclaw…alright. I can live with that. Even losing from Slytherin is bearable because everybody knows they cheat. But…Hufflepuff? No. Never again." She gave her Team a challenging glare. Sirius held up his hands.

"I don't know why you're staring at me. I was ill. And so was James. And Lily was having her period…"

"What?" He backed away hastily.

"Well, you played lousily! That's the only explanation I can come up with."

"My periods do not influence my playing style!" Lily screamed, and all but pushed her fist in his face. "I was worried about James!"

"That's why you dropped three balls? Come on, Lil, give us a better reason."

"No, don't." Liza pulled her fellow Chaser away from Sirius, gave him a stern look and tapped her broom on the ground. "Sirius, don't even try to imagine you know anything about a woman's periods or I swear to God, I'll make you go through one. We lost. I ate my hat. I bought a new one. It was expensive. I don't want to eat that one as well. Now, for another Beater, do we have a spare one hanging around? Dinah, you always wanted to try?" The girl smiled, and heaved her breasts at Sirius.

"Sorry. Can't, having my period." Liza sighed.

"Remus? You're pretty good."

"I'd fly away, and you know it."

"Can't you try and concentrate for one hour? You can hit a ball, can't you? And you're horribly strong, so…" Remus smiled.

"Sure. I'll try. Just whistle if I seem to be catching flies, or something."

"There are no flies," she said, and handed him Sam Creevey's broom. "Although you will see them if I catch you off guard. Now let's move move move! Slytherin's scheduled right after us. Let's show them what we're made of!"

Two hours later, the Marauders and Lily walked back to the castle, four of them pleasantly weary and glowing after practicing outside in the cold air and a hot shower afterwards. Peter was the only one who shivered in the damp air, having sat still for such a long time, but he made up for that now, for he had to jog to keep up with the rest of them.

"This was a good day," James said all of a sudden, starting them all out of their private reveries. "Great nightly activities, good practice, good classes, good company. Even seeing Goyle made me feel good for a change. Unless we've got bangers and mash for dinner, this might actually turn out to be the best day of this week." The other three boys glanced at Lily, for one moment befuddles by the nightly activities, then Remus threw his head back and laughed.

"Oh, that way. Yes, it was good, wasn't it? I can actually remember some of it, too. Although that only increases my curiousness about the territory behind the ant hill…"

"I've heard Hagrid talk about a unicorn herd." Sirius said dreamily. "I'd really like to see it."

"They'd probably hate to see you though," Peter shot back. "They preferring virgins and such." The dreamy expression vanished like the sun behind the clouds.

"Well, lucky for them we'll bring you along then, isn't it, my sweet little boy?" Peter swelled with anger, but James patted his shoulder and told him to ignore Sirius' gittiness.

"You know he's only winding you on." The smaller boy still looked cross, but James paid him no more attention. "I don't know about the unicorns, but I have been thinking about the Green Lake. It shouldn't be that far away from the ant hill, according to _Hogwarts: A History_. Nobody's seen it for years. The book mentions some kind of battle between two tribes of centaurs…"

"I really wish you wouldn't talk about it while I'm with you," Lily said softly. She was looking a little sad, and a little bit annoyed. "You know I can't come along with you, and that I don't agree with what you're doing at all. It's pretty irritating hearing you plan out your next great escapism trick while you know I'll be lying awake all night praying that you won't get caught." 

"Aww, Lily…"

"No, I mean it. I really don't want to hear anything about it." They walked the rest of the way in silence, still comfortable with each other, but a little put off at the same time. 

The fact that Lily hadn't mastered an animagus form while Peter had, was still a point of regret for both the Marauders and Lily herself, although, as she had said, she wouldn't have gone with them on their nightly rampants if she had been able. Lily felt highly uncomfortable breaking the rules, and she could not go about and be happy with this feeling weighing her down. The boys evidently could; especially Sirius didn't seem to have a conscience when it came to breaking school rules. But then, Sirius did not seem to have a conscience at all—at least, not when it did not concern his friends.

Dinner went by, was devoured by the close to six hundred ravenous pupils and teachers, and James toasted on a bangers and mash-free best day of the week. Most Gryffindors drank to that, and when they went to the common room to do their homework or, more often, relax and play exploding snap, invent pranks or simply talk after a long exhausting day, the five of them gathered around the hearth and busied themselves until Peter and Lily went to bed, and the core of the Marauders remained. 

The common room was their domain now, and in the dimming light of the fire they sat close to each other, paging through books like _Hogwarts: A History_, _The Forest and its Inhabitants_, and _Magical Creatures and How to Avoid Them_, planning their next adventure.

These hours were often even better than the real thing, Remus sometimes thought. The feeling of secrecy, of belonging together sometimes was so strong it made his belly squeeze together in knots. He didn't know whether it was the same to James and Sirius, but at those moments he simply loved his friends, loved them so much he never wanted to stop being here, at Hogwarts, as a pupil and as a sixteen year old boy, with James and Sirius. Sure, he liked Peter too, but James and Sirius were almost part of him. James, with his brilliant mind and his fierce loyalty, lying on his stomach with his feet to the fire, eyes glittering behind his spectacles, spinning tales of wonder like other boys whisper locker talk. Sirius, whose sarcastic wit and macho were a façade which cracked so easily when he was moved and then showed glimpses of an astonishing romantic, his tall muscular body (so different from James's, which was slim and supple, and so different from Remus's own thin body as well) half sprawled over a chair, his eyelashes throwing shadows over his cheeks, his voice soft and dreamy as he spoke about centaurs and mermaids and everything that lived in the Forest that seemed a world of its own. Remus could watch his friends for minutes at the time, just watch them, and listen to them speak. Sometimes, he noticed them doing the same when he was talking, and that always filled him with a warmth that spread all the way from his stomach to his head and the tips of his toes. If Lily hadn't been the great girl she was, he might have resented her joining their tight little group, but as it was, she was complementing rather than disturbing them. The fact that she could not and would not go with them on their monthly explorations only added to their friendship.

_It's perfect this way,_ he mused sometimes, when he was in a contemplative mood. _The four of us, or the five of us together. How will we ever cope when we're grown up? We're not ready for the outside world._ And tonight again, as he was looking at Sirius, seeing the romantic, all his defences down, he thought that it would be hardest for him—even harder than for Remus himself. _Because to Sirius, the world is a playground. That's why he doesn't care about rules: it's all a game to him. But werewolves get killed in the real world, and those who break the rules are punished. And if you let your guard down, you get hurt. Did you ever even consider this, Sirius? _But then Sirius woke up from his ember-inspired daydreams and looked at him, his dark eyes glittering with mischief and dreams and fantasies, and answered his melancholy smile with a similar one, before blinking away his sudden despondency and grinning broadly.

"The lake it will be, then," he said, and they all agreed on that.

Next morning they were all rudely awakened by James's Quidditch alarm clock, which pelted them awake with miniature Bludgers until they managed to catch the life-sized Snitch that had taken off at exactly seven o'clock. 

"Potions today," Sirius grumbled at breakfast, staring with mild disgust at his sausages. "I know I'm in danger of sounding like a wuss, but I do wonder what they put in those things."

"Gerbil kidneys," Lily began to sum up, shoving sausages into her mouth, "lamb's eyes. Eye of newt. Tail of newt. Mandragora leaves. Or weren't you talking about invisibility potions?" She grinned, and wiped grease from her chin.

"Are we supposed to drink that potion?" Peter asked anxiously, and she frowned.

"Oh, do read your books for a change, Pete. No, you don't drink it. Mandragora leaves? Don't be silly. You rub the destined body-part in with it, wait, go invisible and have fun. That's all."

"And you're sure Dorkham'll let us make one? He hates it when we're having fun."

"He said he would, last time, while you were asleep, obviously."

"I was trying to remove the salamander tongues from my ear, thank you," Peter sniffed, and Sirius murmured something about stealing ingredients for hair-dying potion and not having enough hand-ear coordination to listen _and_ nab chameleon vocal organs at the same time. James only chuckled.

"Who cares what Dorkham says anyway? He's…oy, the post is late!" A flight of owls swooped over their table, dropping parchments, packets and letters as close as possible to their owners. Sirius's eagle owl screeched loudly as it flew by, and whacked a smaller owl with his wings before landing on the table and gulping the leftover sausagesdown.

"Sirius," Emily Endale complained, "you owl's tail hangs in my porridge."

"Keeeeee!" the owl admitted, and flexed his feathers, spraying her with porridge.

"Oh, sorry! Bad boy, you, Render, bad owl. You didn't even bring me any letters. Scoundrel!" He held up a disapproving finger in front of the owl's beak, but had to retract it quickly to keep it attached to his hand.

"Keee!" Render, the reason for whose name was quite obvious, nipped playfully at Sirius's ear before taking off again, leaving the boy sitting at the table with a bleeding ear and feathers on his plate.

"Stupid thing," he muttered, but not too loudly, for Render had good hearing and the tendency to bear a grudge. "What'd you get?" James waved a small note in the air.

"Invitation from Hagrid, asking us to come over and have tea this afternoon. Apparently he's got something to show us." Remus groaned.

"Not another Roc egg, I hope? If I remember correctly every single tea at Hagrid's ended with bite marks, allergic reactions or fits of uncontrollable laughter on our side."

"Cheer up, Remus. If it's an animal, you won't have to go and see it," James laughed, sending the owl back with an affirmative reply. Remus grimaced.

"Happy happy joy joy," he muttered, and combed his hand through his hair. Six tiny scabs and one small painful bump reminded him unpleasantly of just how much he hated to go to Hagrid's when the man had scavenged yet another forbidden species from the black market. Ticks were one thing, Syrian burrowing flies were quite another, and somehow he always ended up as the lucky new host. Not going, however, was out of the question.

Lily tapped on the table, right in front of him, and started him out of his thoughts.

"Hello? Earth to Moony? Are you coming along? Your hair's looking just fine as it is—I swear, you're becoming as bad as Sirius."

"I'm not vain," Sirius protested, and checked his face in the reflecting surface of his knife.

"Hey James, d'you recon Dorkham'd let me use invisibility potion on my nose?" 

"Better stick your whole head in," James smiled. "He might actually like the idea. Not seeing you for a whole hour might actually improve his mood."

"From homicidal to slightly psychotically deranged, you mean."

"Dead on," James said, and they left the table and headed for the dungeons.

To be continued.

Next chapter: Potions, a visit to Hagrid's, and probably just a lot of nonsense : ) Please review if you like, and if not, review as well and tell my why you didn't like it! I'm hopelessly addicted to reviews—they can make me write seven pages a day! Wheee!


	3. VIRUS3 Introducing the virus

Hello everybody! Thanks for reviewing! Hm, I'm afraid I'll have to replace Sirius for Remus as most important figure—I kind of got addicted writing about Sirius these past few days. But no. Remus will become much more important in further chapters. Here is part three, I hope you like it!

3. Potions. Introducing the virus. Marauder history.

Potions was the Marauders' least favourite subject. Lily adored it, although, like every sane being in Hogwarts, she detested the potions teacher, Professor Dorkham. And Professor Dorkham, in turn, detested everybody. The sole consolation the Gryffindors had, was that his hatred was impartial to house, sex or colour: he hated everybody and everyone, always and without exceptions. Although he sometimes smiled at Snape. But that weird quirk of his mouth could just as well be some sort of spasm, Peter always said.

It was not fair, James was known to complain, that of all the horrible lessons, they had to have this one with the Slytherins as well—to which Snape, when he was around, sneered and said that at least they had Slytherins for company, while they, the Slytherins, had to do with Gryffindors. But not even Snape (never mind Dorkham's blatant favouritism, as Sirius called it) ever dared to talk back against the sour old Professor when he stalked around the room calling them names and flattening their ego with one verbal lashing. And not even Snape was spared those lashings.

With another teacher, trying out the invisibility potion would have been great fun, but beneath Dorkham's baleful glare no one dared to laugh, or try something funny. Remus had been pared up with Magdaliah Thripp, a thin, spotty Slytherin girl who was too deeply lost in her puberty to be of much trouble, but Peter was cowering beneath the commands of Denver Avery, and James and Snape were holding a quiet staring contest over their simmering cauldron. Sirius must be somewhere on the other side of the dungeons, for Remus could see nor hear him.

"What're ye lookin' around fore, Lupin," a croaky old voice suddenly boomed in his left ear. "Yore brains? They ain't in yer head, if ye'r not concentratin' on yer potion in that pot, boy." A Slytherin snicker (delivered like Homeric laughter, but softer and with perpetual mockery) rose around him, but one furious "Silence!" from the potions teacher shut them up immediately. Dorkham leaned over Remus's shoulder and peered into the cauldron. He smelled of old, unwashed robes, vinegar and potion ingredients, and Remus wrinkled his nose in distaste.

"And what've ye got here, boy? You call that a simmer? I call'at dishwater!"

"We just added the frozen newt, sir. It's…"

"Be quiet. If the added ingredients interrupt the boiling, ye'r dabbling. And you don' want to be dabblin', do ye, boy? Not with these potions!

'And you!" this to Thripp, who gave a small 'eep!' and abruptly sat down on her chair, "I told ye this exactly two weeks ago! Why didn't ye remember and help this poor sod? One point both from Gryffindor and Slytherin!

'Yes, mister Black? I heard ye talkin'!" From one end of the dungeons, Sirius's polite and utterly disrespectful voice echoed faintly through the rest of the chamber. 

"Nothing, sir. I asked Bentley to pass me my scrolls. Advice like that comes rare; I wouldn't want to forget it, sir." James, Peter, Lily and Remus grimaced and balled their fists. If Dorkham hated everyone with a similar intensity of hatred, he also loathed Sirius. And Sirius never got enough of baiting the old Professor, even though Dorkham's idea of detention included physical punishment, and they had once found their friend sitting on his bed, stripped to the waist, examining his bloody shirt with a disbelieving look in his eyes. As it turned out, Dorkham had first made him take of his robes and t-shirt, then whipped him until he bled, and then had him cutting roots till nightfall. Then he had healed him and sent him back to the tower. 

That it was the wrong way to make children behave themselves, was something all teachers were aware of—hence Hogwarts' official ban on physical punishment. That it was the wrong way to make Sirius behave, was something Dorkham still hadn't figured out, after six years. Detention on the whole was something Sirius didn't care about at all; although he had been polishing toilets for three days straight only a few months ago, he had managed to do it whistling all the while. Dorkham had had a bad case of indigestion for weeks afterwards.

"Don't you, boy."

"No sir." Sirius smiled angelically, and even the Slytherins were silent as mice as they waited what would happen next. In that total silence, the sound of Dorkham's heavy boots stamping down on stone was very loud.

"Keepin' the potion a-boil, even when ye're addin' ingredients."

"Yes sir. Valuable advice, that."

"So, with that advice, yer potion's still boilin', even after you added the newt."

"Yes sir, bubbling like mad."

"A hundred degrees Celsius exactly, isn't it, mister Black?"

_Oh God, Sirius, stop doing this!_ Remus caught Lily's wide green eyes from a few meters away, and saw her miming something to James as well. _We must do something!_

"Wouldn't know that, sir. Could be a bit hotter too."

"Would ye care to find out, mister Black?" He had now reached Sirius's cauldron, and stared up at the boy, who was slightly taller than he was. He was still smiling, but there was defiance in his face too, and a very clear contempt. "Go ahead, stick in a finger and feel."

"I don't think so, sir." Sirius said, and this time the 'sir' sounded just like 'mate' or 'you old wanker'. "That's what we've got thermometers for, isn't it?" The man's lined, sunken mouth twitched, but not in the 'blatant favouritism' way.

"Ye think ye're very smart, don't ye, boy?" he said softly. "Well, let me tell ye somethin'. Ye're not. Ye're an ignorant little pest who thinks that his friends'll look up to him when he's bein' cheeky with the teacher. Well ye're wrong, Black. They don't look up to ye. They only think ye're bein' stupid. And they're right." In a flash, he grabbed Sirius's right hand and thrust it to the wrist into the boiling liquid.

James screamed, Lily covered her eyes, and the rest of the Gryffindors shot to their feet, gasping. The only one who did not, in fact, utter a sound, was Sirius. He had already torn himself loose, and was now staring at his wet hand with a look of confusion on his face.

"Fool boy," Dorkham said, a satisfied tone in his voice. "Did ye really think I'd maim ye for life? If ye'd paid any attention to what I've been sayin', ye'd have known that as soon as y'add the newt's tails, the potion absorbs all of its own heat, like it'll absorb all rays of light when it's finished. Write that down as well, mister Black. I won't have you refusing to do my biddin' another time." And to the Gryffindors' great relief and to everybody's surprise, he left it at that.

"I don't see why you keep egging him on," James hissed angrily at his friend while they were walking towards Charms. "You gain nothing by pissing him off."

"I gain a sense of great self satisfaction," Sirius said, but he was still a little shaken. After all, getting whipped was one thing, having your hand plunged into boiling fluid was quite another thing again.

"You're mad. He's crazy enough to make you do the same thing while he's boiling water. I swear, we've got to tell somebody. The man's a maniac." Remus shook his head.

"Nobody'd believe us."

"We still have that bloody shirt of yours…"

"They'd say we made it up." Sirius absentmindedly rubbed his wrist.

"Moony's right. Old Dork's a clever old bastard. He makes you hurt, but he heals you before it can leave any scars. Don't worry about it. I can live with a little pain."

"But Peter can't, and neither can Lily," James whispered. "And if Dorkham loses it, I don't want my girlfriend subjected to whip lashes." Remus suddenly grinned aloud. "What?"

"I don't think you should be afraid for Lily," his friend said. "I think physical punishment is solely restricted to Sirius. I never heard anyone else about it."

"Was that why you were laughing."

"No, not really. But it's not funny, so I won't say it."

"Moony!"

"Just a mental slip of the tongue. A Freudian slip, I suppose."

"Moony!" Remus stuck out his tongue and fled into the Charms classroom. 

"As long as he doesn't bugger me, I'll be fine," he chuckled, and Sirius guffawed.

"Never replace bother with bugger, Moony," he warned. "You might get more than you bargained for!"

Professor Flitwick, the tiny Charms teacher, sighed. The Marauders were noisy. Charms might prove to become a long, tiring hour.

Muggle studies and Artifacts came and went, and they had lunch in the great hall. Goyle's dramatic neon hairdo had now faded to a soft pastel violet, making him look adorable for the very first time in his life. The story of Sirius having his hand scalded in potions was buzzing around, but since he neither showed it nor talked about it, the whispers died out swiftly. Defence Against the Dark Arts was cancelled because Professor Furtyle had been called away to Russia for Department's business, and no substitute had been found for her as yet, which left the Gryffindors free to roam around at will. Lily urged them to do their homework now, so they wouldn't have to do it at night, and for a change they listened to her and respectively finished their list of edible gnomes and drew moon charts to determine the near future of a child born in February with Sun in Venus. Arithmancy and Plays and Poetry passed without anything interesting happening, and at half past three James, Lily, Peter, Sirius and Remus ran down the path to Hagrid's cottage.

When they were within a few meters, a dog began to bark and the door quivered beneath two sets of gigantic paws jumping against it.

"There they'll be, Jaws, calm down! It's only the Marauders!" The door opened, and one hundred and forty pounds of dog bounded over to them, slobbered James and Peter across the mouth, whacked Sirius in the face with his tail and growled at Remus.

"Hello to you too, Jaws," James spluttered, wiping his face. "Hi Hagrid. What'cha got for us this time?" The enormous man pulled him to his feet and almost sent him flying into the door opening.

"Firs' we'll have us some tea, then I'll show yeh," he said, thriving on the suspense. "Shut up, Jaws. Leave 'im alone." The dog stopped growling, but still eyed Remus with distrust, and he let out a short bark as the boy followed his friends into the cottage. "Down! Here, boy! Lie down, that's a good doggie. Now, y'all take sugar?"

"No thanks, gotta watch my weight." Hagrid grinned, showing white teeth behind the bushy beard.

"Ah, I see. Won' tempt yeh wi' home made biscuits, then." Lily faked genuine gratitude.

"Thanks, Hagrid."

A few minutes later they were sipping Darjeeling and breaking their teeth on Hagrid's rock-hard biscuits. Even Jaws left them lying on the carpet, which brought James in a nasty situation, as he had hoped that the dog would dispose of the dreaded cookie, and now lay there in a highly conspicuous way. Thankfully he was able to kick it beneath the sofa, where he was sure it would lie quietly for the next forty years without rotting or getting stale.

"So can't you give us a hint?" Peter probed. "Is it an animal?" Hagrid smiled mysteriously.

"Is it? Does it bite?"

"I ain't saying nothing. Finish yer tea." Peter pulled some very interesting faces as he attempted to drink the livid tea.

"Is it an animal the _Book of Magical Creatures and Where to Find Them_ prohibits as pets?" James inquired lightly, and Hagrid choked on his tea.

"Now why would I ever…"

"Hagrid! Not another Roc…!" The Gamekeeper held up his hands in defence.

"No! No, it's not wha' yer thinkin'. It's perf'tly legit what I'm keepin' in me shed." Now all five of them hopped up and down on whatever place they were sitting.

"_Ha_grid!"

"Alrigh' then. Yeh finished yer tea?"

"Yes!"

"Come on then. Outside." As the other ran for the door he put his hand on Remus's shoulder, covering most of his neck and upper arm as well. "Er, I hate to say it, but…"

"I can't go in? That's alright…" Remus said listlessly, but the feeling of a vice clamping down on his shoulder shook him out of his self-pity.

"No way! Yeh can go in jus' fine. Just…keep back a little, okay? Jus' so she won' scent yeh."

"Sure."

"Good. Let's go."

Hagrid's shed was large enough to house an entire family with seven kids, both grandparents alive on mom and dad's side, and a host of animals. Ordinarily it was stuffed to the roof with fire wood, bottles with brandy from Hagrid's private distillery and things better left unseen and unmentioned, but at the moment it was almost empty. A great amount of hay lay on the ground near the far wall opposite the door, and lying in that grassy bed…lay a unicorn.

"Oooh!" Lily and Sirius breathed simultaneously, and Peter just stared with wide eyes. They had all seen unicorns before during Care of Magical Creatures (apart from Remus, who was excluded from all classes that involved animals because of their panicky reaction to his werewolf scent), but to see one lying here like some sort of domesticated horse was an unexpected treat indeed.

"A unicorn!" James whispered. "How'd you get it?"

"Can I pet it?" Hagrid gently pulled her back.

"No, yeh can't. The reason why've got her, is that she's sick. Look atter, her eyes are all wet and droopy. She's got a mean fever. I don' know what's wrong wi' 'er yet, but I hope I'll find out soon, cause…"

"She'll die?" Remus asked thickly. "It's that bad?" The Gamekeeper nodded gravely.

"It appears ter be some kind of virus—I already found 'er filly some weeks ago. Died fer some kind of reason, an illness I s'pose, and I'm afraid 'er mum's caught it as well." He sighed. "But, I still wanted ter show yeh. Yeh don' get the chance ter see a unicorn every day—specially you, Remus. It's not right, never seein' a unicorn. Even if it's ill." Remus smiled, and rubbed his nose, which had gotten suspiciously red.

"Thanks, Hagrid," he said hoarsely. "I really, really appreciate it." On the other end of the shed, the unicorn began to cough. It was an ugly, wet sound that made them cringe, and Hagrid gently ushered them out again.

"Better leave 'er on her own fer a bit. I don' want 'er to get excited."

"Of course."

"So, shall we have us another cuppa?" James nodded thoughtfully.

"That'd be nice, thanks. But just the one. I still have to do some Quidditch practice before dinner."

"That's fine," Hagrid said, and weighed the three litre teapot in one hand. "There's only about one cuppa left."

On their way back to the castle, they were all a little subdued. It had never occurred to them that unicorns could get ill and die, just like every other creature. Let alone be killed by a virus.

"What if it's contagious?" Peter wondered aloud. "It might kill all the unicorns in the Forest."

"Viruses are always contagious. Some are just a little less catching than others."

"Let's hope this virus is one of them."

"Let's." Remus put his hands in his pockets, drawing in on himself as he always did when he were feeling low. To have seen a unicorn—finally seen a unicorn!—and knowing that it might die made him feel sad and almost guilty, as if he were somehow the cause of its suffering.

"Is Creevey alright now?" he asked.

"Huh? Yes, why?"

"Just wondering whether you still needed a Beater."

"No. Sorry."

"Never mind." He huddled closer into his robe, becoming smaller by the moment. Lily gently touched his arm, 

"Are you alright?"  

"Hm? Oh. Yes. Just a little…down, I guess. That unicorn…"

"Hagrid'll find out what's wrong with her in no time," Sirius said, with certainty. "And either Cactuar or, god forbid, Dorkham'll make her a potion, and she'll be back on her feet in a week. Don't worry about it. You know Hagrid. He'd rather eat his own foot than let an animal under his protection be harmed.

'Cheer up, Moony. I need your support when I ask Cynthia out for our date." Peter made a soft sound, like a curse, and fastened his step. 

"You are such a bastard sometimes, Sirius," Remus said tiredly, with a faint smile of affection and a frown of desperation. "Honestly." Peter broke out into a trot. "I'd better run after him, before he drowns in the lake. I'll see you at dinner."

"What!?" Sirius called after him, unaware of any kind of crime he might have had committed. "What am I a bastard for this time?" Remus did not reply, and he shrugged. "I'd really like to know. Do you know?" 

"It might be Cynthia…"

"Oh come on! You can't be serious. Peter can't have an affair with Cynthia. It's impossible. She called him a sweet little boy. If a woman ever called me that, I'd knock her teeth in and then make out with her sister. He can't be in love with a woman who's a. humiliated him, b. is five inches taller than him, and c. is drop-dead gorgeous. She's mine, and I'll have her go out with me. And what're you laughing at now?" Lily giggled, and plucked a tendril of hair out of her mouth.

"You're such a womaniser, Sirius. Honestly. Poor Peter! He'll never find a girlfriend as long as you're looking over his shoulder and picking out the nice ones."

"Peter's got us. He doesn't need a girlfriend." Sirius decided, which made James cough with mirth.

"You've got us too. You don't need a girl either."

"No," Sirius grinned, "I need a harem. Unlike Peter, I have a sex drive—hey, I'm not afraid to admit it!"

"So you'll shamelessly seduce Peter's girlfriend because he has no sex drive."

"She's not his girlfriend yet. Besides, if he doesn't make a move, why should I suffer the consequences? Next year she'll be gone. I might miss out on the woman of my life because our sweet little boy doesn't have the guts to tell her he loves her. Which I sincerely doubt anyway. Not Peter."

"You really are a bastard, you know that?" James said, but he was smiling, and Sirius's grin was unconcerned and sunny as if he'd been paid a compliment.

"And loving it too! Oy, is that Liza's sweet voice I hear, or is it a cow mooing?"

"It's Liza," Lily said, and they ran all the way to the pitch, their robes and shawls trailing behind them.

Peter sulked through dinner and refused to speak to Sirius, even though Remus told him that said rather thick-headed person would never understand why he was angry with him if he didn't tell him. Sirius took the opportunity to saunter over to the Ravenclaw table and ask Cynthia out for a date. He came back with a broad grin on his face and a cocky swing to his step, leaving the girls at the Ravenclaw table giggly and flustered.

"She's coming along," he informed rather unnecessarily, and began to stuff himself with baked potatoes. "She's asked me to wear leather." Lily blinked.

"She's asked what?"

"Leather. Me."

"You have a leather jacket…"

"Uh-uh. Trousers. Boots. But I haven't got a leather shirt…"

"You're kidding." Privately, she'd love to see Sirius in leather. Of course, James was her boyfriend whom she would love forever, and she did love him very much, but James, she knew, would only look like a member of the fire brigade in leather trousers, while Sirius… "She's nuts." _Or she's smarter than any of us ever dreamed of._

"I hope I still fit into them," Sirius worried, and abruptly stopped eating. "It's been a while since I last wore them."

"No worries," Remus said, "I'll help you. I'll coat your legs with axle grease and green soap and we'll pull those babies up in no time. You'll have a sucking fit." Sirius burst out in peals of laughter, and many of the other Gryffindors joined in. Only Peter morosely mashed his potatoes with his fork and sighed. First, a dying unicorn. Then the certainty that even if she had found him sweet, Cynthia Catterwall was now out of reach for good. He heaved another great sigh and stood up, not hungry anymore. Nobody needed him anyway, they hardly noticed him go. Peter climbed the many stairs to the Gryffindor common room, muttered the password to the Fat Lady and went to bed, curling up around his pet rat Luncheon. He liked being part of the Marauders, but at times like these it was painfully clear that he did not really fit in, and never really would. 

When they were first years, gazing around with childish wonder, the Marauders did not exist yet. Peter Pettigrew had filed into the great hall with the other first years, tired and depressed after a journey without having anyone to talk to. All first years were small, but of every child in the hall Peter was convinced he was the smallest. 

The Sorting Hat pondered for a long time on his head, wondering whether he belonged in Hufflepuff or in Gryffindor, and had finally declared him a Gryffindor. The Gryffindors had applauded when he sat down at their table, and later they had clapped a lot harder when the boy after him, Potter, James, was sorted into Gryffindor as well. Peter recognised the bespectacled boy from the boats on the lake, and tentatively smiled at him. James Potter smiled back.

"So you're a Gryffindor too," he said, as if pleasantly surprised, and Peter nodded. After those few words James had left him alone and started a conversation about Quidditch with a second year, but Peter did not forget that moment of attention and friendship, and stuck close to James when they were led to their tower. He made sure that they shared a room, not paying any attention to the other three boys, one of whom was very small and looked like a wild young animal, one of whom who had a thick shock of black hair and was appropriately called Black, and one of whom was small and weedy and listened to the name of Will Deveraux. 

James put up with Peter, more because he pitied him than because he liked his company, and soon became great friends with the small boy with the unusual grey-brown eyes, who seemed to be so sickly. Will Deveraux had come to Hogwarts at the same time as his twin sister, and they did everything together, which left Sirius Black to fend for himself. And fend he did. A highly intelligent boy, he hardly needed to study to keep up with the rest, and being locked up in a large building filled with moving stair cases and traps did not help his concentration. There was no room, forbidden or not, that Sirius did not investigate, and he did it all on his own, since his fellow first years could not stand him at all.

James detested Sirius, and Sirius, in turn, sneered at James. Both boys were leaders—alpha males, as Remus absentmindedly declared—and neither of the two could stare each other down. He treated Peter with indifferent friendliness because he was too small to pose a threat, but James, who let no one walk over him, refused to let Sirius boss him around, and Sirius detested people who did not listen to him. Remus liked him, although he was too shy to show.

Refusing to be a bother to the second years, who were actually quite keen on having Sirius join their group, Black found a vent for his pent-up frustration in Slytherin bashing. 

One of the pale, beaky-nosed Slytherins took great delight in pointing out how sad Sirius's magical skills were, especially compared to his own. And he hexed Sirius to such measures that he had to spend several hours in the infirmary.

At that point, James's hatred of him changed slightly. The century old cold war between Gryffindor and Slytherin rendered him and Sirius on the same side, and Snape and his cronies on the other, and for that alone he hated Snape for taking Sirius out. His diminished hatred changed into grudging admiration when Sirius came back the next day, told Snape that he didn't need magic to teach people a lesson, and beat the Slytherin bloody. McGonagall herself had to step in to tear Black away from his bleeding opponent and stop him pummelling him to pulp. This time it was Snape's time to spend some time in the infirmary, while Sirius polished all bronze statues on the third floor with a tooth brush, humming to himself all the time.

            But the real start of their friendship and the founding of the Marauders happened several weeks after the Snape incident, and had nothing to do with the Slytherins. It had everything to do with Quidditch, which both boys excelled at. James, according to the eagle-eyed madam Hooch, was a natural Seeker, and would be in the Gryffindor Team as soon as he was old enough to join. Over Sirius she shook her head a lot. The boy flew as if he'd been born on a broom, but was so wild and careless there hardly wasn't a flying lesson in which she didn't have to take him to see Madam Pomfrey and get his arms and legs mended. One time he even drove his feint too far and slammed head-on into one of the goal posts, cracking his skull against the solid iron beam. It took him three days before he could walk steady again, and another week before he was allowed back on a broom.

              Of course, one week was a terribly long time for a boy like Sirius. During Quidditch practice, four days after he had crashed, he was told to stand at the side line and keep the score, but that, he wailed, was almost as bad as dying of thirst in the middle of the ocean. He was fine, his head was okay, he could fly perfectly alright and if she wanted him to take it easy he was just fine with that too, but he did not want to stand at the side line. And for the first time he snarled at Peter, who stood next to him because he was too scared to fly, and called him a spineless coward. Madam Hooch, familiar with the tantrums of little boys, calmly told him to keep quiet, because otherwise she would lock him up in the dressing room, and she was convinced he did not want that to happen. So Sirius stood at the side line, hands in his pockets, glaring at the flying first years from beneath his thick mass of hair and refusing to say another word. When class was over and everybody showered and got dressed, Sirius was missing. Madam Hooch thought he had already gone back to the castle, but when James went back to the dressing room because he had forgotten his gloves, he noticed Sirius sneaking towards the broom closet.

What had happened exactly, Peter did not know, but it had included a broom race between James and Sirius, a lengthy scolding session first on the ground and later in the air, the use of wands, and a totally out of control broom which had plunged into the middle of the lake. James's broom. A few moments later, when James still hadn't come up, Sirius sent his own broom to the place where his fellow Gryffindor had disappeared, jumped down into the water and dived to find James. Who found who in the end wasn't entirely clear, but eventually they dragged each other to the shore, James still clutching his sodden broom.

"You _idiot_."

"I know…" Sirius replied with disarming frankness, and clutched his head in his hands.

"You could've gotten us both killed!"

"I know…"

"Madam Hooch'll kill us if she finds out. If anyone finds out!"

"I know…" James clambered up out of the mud, looking at the other boy with sudden worry.

"Are you alright?" Sirius remained where he was, kneeling in the mud with his hands pressed against his temples.

"I don't know…" He suddenly laughed, moaning at the same time. "My head hurts like hell and I've lost my broom, I'm soaking wet and in immediate danger of not only getting myself barred from any Quidditch activity in the future, but also getting expelled at the same time, so…no, I don't think I'm alright. And if you hadn't stuck in your big fat nose we'd both be a lot more comfortable. But. Er. I'm sorry for…you know." He looked up, narrowing his eyes against the light and the pain in his head. "Nobody seems to have seen us yet."

"Lucky us. We should find your broom right now and put it back." 

"We?" Sirius asked in a small, hopeful voice, and James wiped his dripping hair out of his eyes with an impatient smile.

"Of course. Like you said, if I hadn't interfered, you'd probably have flown safely into the Whomping Willow. Now get up. I'm not looking for that thing on my own." And when Sirius held up his hand, both to ask him to help him up and in friendship, he took it. 

And that had been the birth of the Marauders, because now James and Sirius had become friends, Remus and Peter automatically became Sirius's friends as well. And when they found out that Remus was a werewolf, their friendship only intensified.

            _Until now_, Peter thought, as he lay on his bed, his face pressed against the soft fur of Luncheon's side. _Until now. I'll get you for this one, Sirius! I'll be damned if I won't!_

To be continued…

Next chapter: the gig. Sirius gets a very painful lesson in conduct. The virus spreads in the Forest. 


	4. VIRUS4

Okay, this is a pretty long chapter, but I couldn't find a better point to stop. There's some violence in this chapter, and some hints at sexual stuff. Next chapter I'll stop hinting and start letting them have proper sex : ) But fear not, I doubt it'll ever become more than PG-13 or perhaps R.

Thanks for the reviews. I know the virus takes some time, but it has a pretty long incubation time : ) Now, on with chapter 4. Enjoy!

The purple beans being hallucinogens is taken from Cassie's _Draco Sinister_, and so is the idea of Sirius wearing leather : )

4. Music, leather and fights. Peter gets back on Sirius—in a way.

When Friday arrived, the whole of Hogwarts was buzzing, and even McGonagall gave up trying to get their attention. Every student from the third year to the seventh talked about one subject only: the gig in _the Three Broomsticks_. It didn't matter whether you liked Ed Zoë and the Weavers or not; on Saturday, _the Three Broomsticks_ was the place to be. Not one single teacher would dare to enter that portal of hell, so they would all be unchecked. Three cunning fifth years set up a cannabis store, and had made almost a hundred Galleons when they had finally sold all they had. Honeydukes did great business the weekend before the gig, selling four hundred packages of _Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans—including the purple ones!_, solely because those purple beans were hallucinogens, and the local wizarding shop had been crowded with third and fourth year girls who had all wanted to buy potions and charms to make their hair frizz, unfrizz, turn blue, yellow or black, lengthen eye lashes and enhance general pettiness. That Saturday afternoon the dressing and bath rooms resounded with the giggling, squeaking, moaning and humming of girls, all working hard to make themselves as desirable as possible.

Lily didn't need charms to look pretty, although she had done her hair up in such an intricate hairdo that James suspected that she had used a spell to keep it up that way. She wore a short jumper that left a charming bit of belly bare, and a knee-length skirt with many petticoats. James, Remus and Peter simply wore jeans, shirts and sweaters, and Sirius was clothed in a black shirt and black leather trousers.

It had taken him the better part of half an hour to wring himself into his trousers, and when he finally managed to do up his buttons James and Remus were falling off the bed laughing.

"This must be so incredibly uncomfortable," James hiccupped, looking at Sirius's red face. "Can you actually sit down without cutting off your blood circulation? Can you move at all?" Sirius grinned, and walked up and down the room. At first he looked as if he had two wooden legs, but after a few strides his usual swagger surfaced, and after a minute of prancing he moved just as he did when he was wearing jeans.

"It stretches a bit when it heats up. I'll be fine—unless it starts to freeze suddenly. But I don't think it will." He made a few deep bows, tipping the ground with his fingers, and groaned. "But it _is_ just a tiny little bit uncomfortable, and I've _no_ idea how I'm going to get my boots on."

William Deveraux, their fifth room mate, wandered into the room, obviously looking for his hair gel by the looks of his unkempt mop of hair, took one look at Sirius and cursed.

"Holy shit, Sirius! How'd you get into that thing?" he glanced at Remus, recalling his promise a few days ago, and grinned. "Did you really coat his legs with axle grease?"

"He did nothing of the sort," Sirius said, piqued. "All it took was a good squeeze and a single spell…" James burst into laughter, immediately followed by Will and Remus, "…and I have the sucking fit, as Remus so aptly put it." And suddenly a little unsure, "Do I look ridiculous?" James was too busy biting his pillow to answer, but Will told him to keep standing there and not move a muscle, and ran out of the door.

"What…?" Sirius asked suspiciously, but then they heard him calling down the stairs, "Emily! Lily! Come on up, we need your advice!" Will popped his head back in.

"It's okay if I call Lily too, right James?" James wiped tears from his eyes.

"Hm. I dunno. He's barely decent. Haven't you got a shirt, Sirius?" But Sirius had his eyes on the door and seemed frozen to the spot with apprehension. 

            And so he was standing there when Lily and Will's sister entered the room: dressed only in tight leather trousers, flushed with the effort of getting into those trousers, hair still damp from the shower and sticking up in static tangles. James had to admit that Sirius had a good body, with nicely defined abdominal muscles, broad shoulders, narrow hips and long legs, but it still didn't explain why both Lily and Emily skidded to a halt just in front of him and regarded him with a flabbergasted-turning-to-absolute-admiration expression in their bulging eyes. Lily folded her hands in front of her breasts.

"O wow…"

"God, Sirius…" Emily purred, closing her mouth with a click. "You look…succulent." James bit down on his pillow again, and Remus and Will sank to the floor, rendered totally helpless with hilarity. 

"Suc-succulent…" howled Remus, holding his head between his knees to get enough air. "You should've seen him trying to get it on!" Emily was unfazed. She was looking very pretty herself with her blonde hair curling in her neck and around her face, her slender figure wrapped in a short champagne-coloured dress and high-heeled boots of a matching colour on her feet. She was pretty, and she knew it.

"Let 'em laugh, Sirius," she breathed, stepping closer to him and running one red lacquered fingernail down his chest. "You look great. Don't bother with a shirt. And don't do anything with your hair either. Boots? Ah yes, would be nice, but not necessary either. If Lee hadn't promised to take me to see the Quidditch Cup next season I'd stand him up in a minute…" She growled at him, and pressed her body against his, then began to giggle as he regarded her with a mixture of amusement and distrust.

"So, what is it? Should I take them off?"

"No!" Lily cried. "Don't! Keep them on. It looks great. Very…tight, but great. I didn't know you had such cute buns, Sirius."  
"Hey!" James warned, and she stuck out her tongue. 

"Yeah, that's what I keep telling them, but they won't ever listen," Sirius picked up his shirt, shrugged into it and began to fasten the buttons. "Can't wear briefs beneath this; it'd look as if I were wearing a diaper or something."

"Sirius!" But Sirius was taking revenge for the merciless teasing he'd been subjected to, and flashed the girls an innocent smile.

"I sure hope I won't need to take a leak in this thing; it'd be hell to get all the buttons done up again once I've…"

"Sirius!"

"I guess I just can't drink too much. Which is a pity."

"Indeed."

"Hello?" James waved his hand in the air. "Can I have some attention too? My _new_ shirt is at least as interesting as Sirius's _old_ trousers."

"Oh my poor neglected honeybud!" Lily fawned, just as Emily said that she might pay him attention if he'd show her the shirt without any other article of clothing to spoil the view.

"Really?" James squealed, and began to fumble with his belt buckle. "Well, anything to stop you two from drooling all over our floor…" Lily smacked him on the hand.

"No sharing of the merchandise, James Potter. Speaking of merchandise, where's Peter?"

"Moping." Remus said, with a smile. "With Luncheon."

"Who?" Emily asked.

"Luncheon. His rat. They've grown quite close these last few days."

"Poor Peter…"

"Hell no," Sirius said impatiently, flopping down on his bed and attempting to get his boots on, "he's just being fussy. If he didn't like me asking Cynthia he should've told me. I don't know if I wouldn't have asked her if he'd _said_ he didn't want me to, but he should at least have told me."

"Ah, Cynthia's the lucky girl?" Emily quipped, with just a hint of jealousy.

"Uhuh. Er, Remus, would you mind helping me? I can't get my laces done…"

At seven thirty, the great hall turned into a meeting place for friends to pair up, find each other and admire each other's attire. The Marauders found their missing link huddled near one of the moving harnesses on the left, still a little gloomy but determined to enjoy this evening—even if it didn't include a date. Peter's faint smile almost made Sirius feel guilty, but he pushed that thought firmly away when Cynthia joined them. She was looking great in plain light blue jeans and a lacy white top, and unlike most of the other girls she wore her long blonde hair loose, so that it almost reached her waist. Peter sighed. Sirius whistled. The girl looked him up and down, grinned and clicked her tongue.

"I love it when I'm right," she said, and allowed him to kiss her on the mouth. Peter hid behind Remus and cursed.

"Are we complete? Shall we go?" urged James, wrapping his right arm around Lily's shoulders. "We'll be late if we don't go now, and all the seats'll be taken…"

"Relax, James. We're ready. Come on!"

            It was a cheerful train, the Hogwarts students, as they walked towards Hogsmeade in their colourful dresses and smart clothes, their voices rising up into the chilly autumn air. As it was quite dark already, many of them had their wands lit, and from a distance they looked like a cloud of fireflies. Of course there were they usual taunts and insults between the houses, and especially some of the more elaborately made up girls, Sirius and a few other boys in unusual garb got catcalls and wolf whistles, but on the whole everybody was too pleased with the party to start a serious fight. Snape was nowhere in sight, and even if he had been, James would have wished him a good night. His mood was that excellent tonight.

As soon as they reached the _Three Broomsticks_ it became clear that apart from the young owner, Madam Rosmerta, and Ed Zoë no people over twenty were around. The building was already crowded with students and local adolescents who had just finished Hogwarts and wanted to see the gig; the common room was filled with smoke and light and many, many bodies. Ed was still tuning his instruments and his weavers, who obediently held out their hands so he could untangle their long fingers. James, Remus, Sirius, Peter, Lily and Cynthia crawled through the crowd near the bar and managed to secure a small empty table and five chairs in the back of the room.

"Packed, isn't it?" Remus said. Already he had to raise his voice to make himself heard. "It'll be a sucking fit when the band starts to play."

"What is it with you and sucking fits?" Lily wondered. "Some kind of childhood trauma?" Remus smiled.

"Traumas galore, but as far as I know sucking fits aren't part of those. I just…"

"Noted that it'll be crowded. 's okay, Remus," Sirius reassured him. "I think they charmed the window side to make it bigger. Don't worry, you won't be squashed."

"What relief flows through my veins."

"No need to be sarcastic."

"I was lyrical, not sarcastic."

"Remus, you wouldn't know lyrical if it sat on your quill singing 'muse is in the heart,' and bared her breasts at you." Remus glared at him. "Well, it's true, you wouldn't. Hey, where're you going?"

"You slighted me," his friend said sulkily. "I feel unwanted. Therefore I feel you should pay for our first round, which I will get now. What do you all want? Peter?"

"Vodka…"

"One butterbeer coming up. James—oh, sorry, where are my manners—Cynthia?"

"Me too, please."

"Vodka or butterbeer?"

"Butterbeer."

"All right. Lily? You too? James?"

"Beer. Just beer, no butter."

"Me too." 

"That'll make four butterbeers and two butter-free beers. Sirius, hand me your purse."

"I don't think so. Here's two galleons, that should be more than enough."

"I thank you, sir, for your trust. Um. I need someone to help me carry the glasses." Peter dragged himself up from the depths of his depression.

"I'll help you."

"Right. We'll be back in…well, as soon as possible." Remus and Peter disappeared in the crowd.

"Hurray," James cheered softly. "The dateless have deserted us! Opportunity fest!" He grabbed his girlfriend around the waist and kissed her on the mouth. "Come on, Lily, don't be a prude. Sirius doesn't mind." Lily squeaked, but when she noticed that Sirius did, in fact, not even notice them snogging because he was too busy doing the same with Cynthia, she leaned into him and opened her mouth as she kissed. There was something secure about making out in a crowded room, she thought as she felt James's hands stroke her thigh and one side of her face. Everybody saw, but nobody noticed. And nobody cared anyway, even if they did notice. She gave a little purr of contentment, and lost herself in James for some time, until a soft chuckle against her neck brought her back to earth.

"What is it?" James lifted his head from her neck, laughing softly.

"Call me a pervert, but I can't help feeling for Sirius."

"What for?"

"If he feels the same way as I do right now, he's probably wishing he were wearing slackers instead of that torture device."

"Ah." She smiled, and trailed her fingers down his thigh. "Is that so? Pervert."

"Do I even want to know what's going on?" Remus's stoic voice made her pull her hand back, even though James had arched up ever so slightly and she'd have liked to continue. "Here, can you take this one too? Thanks. I lost Peter in the crowd somewhere, but I'd really appreciate if you'd disentangle yourself from Cynthia, Sirius, and behaved a little more considerately towards him." He actually sounded irritated, and Sirius reluctantly let go of Cynthia's thigh. He pouted.

"I wasn't doing anything."

"Really? If you'd asked me you had your tongue stuck so far down her throat you were licking her kidneys."

"Excuse me for interrupting you, but why on earth should we be considerate towards this Peter?" Cynthia asked, irritated as well. "Sirius asked me out, not Peter, whoever that is. That's that smallish boy, right?" Remus nodded tightly, then sighed and sat down.

"Look, I'm sorry if I sound like somebody's father, but Peter…he's got a terrible crush on you, and seeing you with Sirius kinda hurts him, you know?"

"Peter? A crush on me? But…I'm at least three years older than him!"

"Er, no." Sirius corrected. "He's a sixth year as well. And even if he weren't, hell, I'd have a crush on you too."

"_Sirius_. Anyway, I don't ask you to, like, hold in or something, but…could you at least smile at him once? He'd…"

"Hi Peter!" Lily called loudly, shutting Remus up and waving at her friend. "Can you manage?"

"Sure," Peter muttered, handing Remus his butterbeer and James his beer. One of the butterbeers Remus had brought was sitting before his own empty seat. Cynthia looked up at him, raising her lashes so slowly she seemed to be moving in slow motion, and smiled.

"Is that one for me, Peter?" she asked huskily. Peter flushed bright red, and nodded. He placed the glass in front of her as if it were a diamond ring. "Thank you. You're very sweet." She glanced at the rest of her companions, who were all biting their lips and looking away to keep from laughing out loud, and made sure that she touched his fingers before he released the glass. Peter was now so red in the face that they all expected him to start steaming from the ears. "So," Cynthia shamelessly led him on, "Shall we toast?" James stopped pretending to drink, coughed and raised his glass.

"Yes. To, er…"

"To Ed and his Weavers!" They clinked their glasses together, drank, and raised them once more.

"To leather trousers and butterbeer!" Another swallow.

"To Saturdays!"

"Hail that!"

"And, of course," Remus added, "To friendship."

"No more alcohol for Remus," Sirius said, but he toasted just as enthusiastically as the rest. 

"I don't drink alcohol."

"Why ever not?"

"Screws with my head."

"Like the purple beans?" James asked with a delicate grin. Remus shot him a look.

"So it was you!"

"Should I feel slighted this time?" wondered Sirius, and downed his beer. "Because if that is the matter I should get the drinks this time, and you can pay for them."

"That is the first sensible thing you've said all day. Here is your own change. It should be enough for another round."

"And you'd better hurry, because I think the Weavers're laid out on the stage. Ed's bound to begin in a few minutes." Sirius rose from his seat and tugged at his waistband. 

"Damn thing…okay, who's with me?"

"I've already done my duty."

"Fine, but I will buy you a beer if you stay there." Remus gave him a wave.

"Do what you can't help. It's on your head if I start singing."

"We can live with that. James?"

"Oh, fine. I'll come along. Be good while I'm gone."  
"But of course," Lily murmured, and draped her arm over Remus's back. "You won't make me scream, will you, Remus?"

"Can't promise you anything, Lily-love."

"How disgusting," Sirius said with a funny quirk of his nose, and pulled his friend along before James could start gibbering. The last thing they heard was Remus growling and Cynthia giggling. "I swear, Moony has hidden sides to him as well." James smiled, just a little too sharply to be entirely friendly. 

"If he touches Lily, he'll also be having a major problem tomorrow morning." But Sirius laughed at him.

"You're one jealous puppy, Prongs. Relax. You know we all love Lily, that doesn't mean we want to hump her. Hell, it'd be like snogging with my sister."

"You don't have a sister."

"Exactly. You still want beer?"

They were lucky enough to make it back to the table before the band began to play. Fortunately for Remus Lily had removed her arm and was now sitting beside him without touching him at all, and they were discussing books when James slid in between them.

"Here's your beer."

"Thanks."

"One butterbeer for madame."

"Merci beaucoup, mon amour." 

"And one for you too. Phew! It's thronged, absolutely loaded. You can walk on heads at the bar."

"Which you did admirably well." praised Sirius. "You must've done it before." He fell silent as a hush passed through the pub. Ed Zoë's magically amplified voice boomed through the room.

"Test. Test. Can everybody hear me?"

"Yeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaay!" they shouted back. Peter and James had climbed on the table, Sirius lifted Cynthia on his shoulders and was steadying Lily as she balanced on her chair to see what was going on on stage. Ed Zoë was a tall longhaired Black man, who did not look like a celebrated rock star; he wore a suit of white linen, and both the suit and his teeth shone in the multicoloured light of the many enchanted glow bulbs.

"I can't hear you!" he called, and cupped his ear with one hand. "Can you all hear me loud and clear?"

"YEEEAAAAAAAAAAY!!" the crowd howled back, loud enough to make the windows quiver in their encasement. Ed grinned widely.

"That's better! I'm so glad you could all make it tonight! Now, you all know I'm a humble artist…" Laughter. "…but my Weavers'd like to have a little encouragement before they starts, so…can I have a great applause for Qurrk, F'naml and Deeljl?" A deafening applause almost flattened the Weavers against the podium. They chirruped contentedly. "Thank you, thank you!" Ed cried, bowing deeply. "Okay! Enough of the talking, more of the playing! I want to see you people _move_ those pretty young bodies! This is our first song." He picked up his reversed guitar and nodded at the Weaver behind the drum-xylophone. It parted its tentacle fingers on one hand, creating two thick drum sticks to play the drum, and began to tockle the xylophone with the eight separate fingers of his other hand. The two sounds combined formed a rippling beat, not unlike the sound of waves crashing on the beach, and Cynthia clapped her hands excitedly.

"Oh! I know this one." Lily nodded.

"Yes, this is one of their most famous ones." 

Now Ed nodded at the second Weaver, who shuffled over to a keyboard, hopped on his crutch and hit several keys in quick succession. A loud cheering arose from the crowd as one after the other they recognised the melody.

"This is _Delirium_!" Ed Zoë cried, hitting the snares of his guitar, and as the third Weaver joined the music with his pan pipes and cello everybody went wild.

"_Delirium_!"  

It didn't take long before _the Three Broomsticks_ was filled with dancing, singing and bobbing youths, all milling through each other. James and Lily disappeared first, then, with a half-apologetic look at Peter, Sirius and Cynthia went after them. Remus and Peter sat at the table, humming along with the music but not feeling inclined to dance. 

"Bean?" Peter asked, offering a package of Bertie Bott's _including the purple ones!_. His friend accepted, and soon they were munching away, complementing on the wonderful taste of the sherry, brandy, champagne and anise coloured jelly beans. 

_Delirium_ ended, and _Fi Fi Fire_ began, driving the beat up another notch. A sweating couple fell down on the free chairs at their table, laughing and fanning themselves with their hands. "Great music!" the boy shouted over the din. "But man, it's hot!"

"You don't mind us sitting here, do you?" Remus said that he was fine with it. They made polite conversation over the noise for a few minutes, then the girl dragged her boyfriend back to the dance floor.

After _Fi Fi Fire_, Ed declared that it was time for a ballad, and the next seven minutes the raving crowd changed into a herd of snogging, cuddling, smooching teenagers. Peter watched them with envy, and kept popping beans into his mouth, including two of the famous purple ones. He felt very much abandoned, even if Remus was sitting next to him, equally dateless. But Remus, Peter somehow knew, did not have a girl because he had chosen not to ask one, while he, Peter, did not have a girl because no one would have him. It made him feel very depressed.

"I think I'll have a beer," he announced, and before his friend could react he had vanished in the crowd.

"Damn!" Remus cursed softly, and after a short hesitation dived into the mass as well.

In the meantime, Sirius and Cynthia amused themselves to the utmost. They had danced themselves out of breath on the first two numbers and were now moving slowly on the flowing sounds of _With You_. Cynthia was a tall girl, but Sirius topped her with two inches, and she could lean her head comfortably in the hollow of his neck. Her hair smelled of shampoo and some light perfume; Sirius stroked his with his free hand, marvelling at the softness of it.

_This is bliss,_ Sirius thought to himself contentedly. _Good music, good atmosphere and a marvellous woman like Cynthia draped around my neck. I wish this would never end._ The romantic in him surfaced for a moment, although he tried to push him down, and he kissed the girl lightly on the top of her head.

"Sirius," She looked up, saw his face and stopped. He looked very vulnerable suddenly, and very young, his dark eyes shining with dreams. An odd throbbing sensation manifested in her stomach—a feeling she hadn't felt before, not even when he had asked her out.

_God, but you're beautiful,_ she thought, and wondered why she had not noticed how handsome he actually was. But something in her eyes seemed to shake him out of his thoughts, and the beauty was replaced with his ordinary mischievous expression.

"Hm?"

"Shall we go and get something to drink? I'm parched."

"Sure." He led her through the throng, deftly avoiding Slytherins and exes, and halted near the bar. "It'll take some time before we're…"

"Cynthia?" A large young man a few years older than them walked up to them from another table. "It really is you!"

"Shit!" Cynthia muttered, and tried to duck back behind Sirius. "Hector."

"Old boyfriend of yours?" Sirius whispered.

"My first. Bad case of love-hate relationship. I hated, he loved." Hector seemed oblivious of her hatred, for he ignored Sirius, grabbed her by the upper arms and kissed her hard on the mouth.

"Long time no see, Cynth. Wanna drink?"

"Excuse me," Sirius interrupted him. "The lady's with me. And you're hurting her." Hector released one of the girl's arms, leaving five red prints on her pale skin. She tried to pull herself lose from the other hand as well, but he kept a firm hold on her.

"Oh. Sorry. I didn't see you. And who might you be?" Sirius frowned.

"I'm Sirius Black, and Cynthia's with me. If you'd care to look at her face, you'd notice that she doesn't want you to buy her a drink, and that you're still hurting her. So let her go, piss off and leave us alone." A few people around them had noticed that something was going on and had turned to watch. Their attention made Sirius swell with confidence, but Hector flushed deeply and squared his broad shoulders. He was only a little taller than Sirius, but much broader, and the fact that a sixteen year old boy dared to tell him off made him gnash his teeth with rage.

"Slytherin scum," murmured a girl from the side. "It's time someone taught him a lesson." Sirius smiled.

"Let her go," he said. "She doesn't want you." He held out his hand to Cynthia, and she immediately pulled herself loose and let herself be pushed behind his back. "Do you, Cynthia?"

"No. I don't."

"You heard her. She doesn't want you. Now go away before you make a fool of yourself." He turned around, placed his hand in the small of Cynthia's back and gently pushed her towards the counter. "Let's get something to drink, love."

A sigh of relief or perhaps disappointment echoed through the crowd before Ed's following number, _Explode in Dalby_, drowned out every other sound. 

"Sirius…" He gave her a little push.

"Just keep walking. He won't try anything here, it's just too…o fuck, man, are you deaf or something?" Hector the graduated Slytherin had grabbed him by the arm and spun him around, his hands balled to fists. His pupils were the size of galleons. "What do you want?"

Hector shouted something he didn't understand, and he shook his head impatiently.

"Why don't you get lost?" He reeled back as a violent shove almost sent him flying into the other students. "Heeey! What's your problem?" 

"It's a fight!" A circle cleared around them. Several girls Sirius knew began to cheer.

"Come on, Sirius! Hex him! Make him eat your fist! You can handle him!" 

A small round head popped out between one of the by standing boys' legs; Peter sucked in his breath as he saw what was going on in the circle.

"I don't want to fight." Sirius said firmly, refusing to draw his wand. The crowd jeered.

"Oh come on, Sirius! He can't hurt you! You know you can beat him!" A few Slytherins gathered behind Hector and cheered him on as well: "Sucker punch him, Hec! He's just a puny Gryffindor! He doesn't want to duel, just kick him instead!"

"No." Sirius said, and turned around. He looked straight into Remus's face, which was smiling proudly.

And then Remus's eyes opened wide.

"Sirius, watch out!" and he was spun around once more, and right when he finally balled his own fists to smack the annoying bastard on the chin, Hector took one step back, balanced on one foot, leaned forward and kicked him as hard as he could between the legs.

"Oowwwwww!" the male clientele groaned, involuntarily clapping their knees together, and then everything went very fast.

Sirius turned chalk white and sank to his knees before falling over without making a single sound. 

"Sirius!" shrieked two furious boy's voices, and two boys, one tall and lanky, the other small and rotund, launched themselves at Hector and knocked him to the ground. "You bastard! You fucking _bastard_!"

At the same moment a calm but outraged voice said, "_Stupefy_!", and a ray of white flew into Hector's chest. The force of Remus hitting him in the side and Peter crashing against his legs sent him skidding across the floor, where the students stepped aside to let him through and then filled the empty space up again. It was Will Deveraux, who fought himself through the bystanders and dropped to his knees next to Cynthia. From another direction, James and Lily, both sporting drinks in their hands, came running and gathered around Sirius as well.

"What happened? What's happened to him?"

"Is he unconscious?" 

"Solid kick to the groin," informed Will with a grimace. He was a little pale himself. "I swear my own balls pulled up all the way to my guts in reaction. Christ."

"He's bleeding," Cynthia remarked. She gently shook Sirius's shoulder. A thin trail of blood trickled down his chin onto the ground. "Hey Sirius. Talk to me." The boy groaned, and curled up further, his hands clasped between his legs.

"Bit his tongue, I suspect," James said. Even though Lily found the situation rather funny, all the boys were highly serious. Apparently it really did hurt as much as they always said, getting kicked in the balls. She stifled a giggle.

"Maybe I could heal you?" she proposed. Sirius opened one dark eye.

"Touch me and I'll bite you," he said hoarsely. He pushed himself up on his arms, assisted by both Cynthia and Will, but grimaced when he tried to stand up and remained huddled on his knees instead. A few other students asked whether he was okay, but most didn't pay attention to him now he was awake and talking.

"But you might have burst something," Lily argued, still fighting a smile. She'd never seen Sirius so quiet and helpless before; it was quite refreshing. "You don't want your scrotum dripping down your legs, do you?" Sirius snarled at her, and a great uncontrollable guffaw bubbled up in her throat.

"I'm sorry…I'm sorry…I'm not laughing at you…"

Cynthia raiser her eyebrow, but a small smile played around her lips as well.

"She does have a point, you know." Sirius wrapped his arms tightly around his stomach.

"The first who tries to touch me I swear I'll turn into a sandworm." He was slowly swaying to and fro with pain, showing preciously little of his usual cockiness. He didn't even look up when Remus and Peter joined their little circle.

"Hey."

"Hello, Remus. There's blood on your hand." Remus carelessly flexed his fingers.

"I cut myself when I broke the man's nose. It took me a while to notice he wasn't fighting back. I think Peter bit him in the calves, didn't you, Peter?" The smaller boy nodded. He was looking down on Sirius with a satisfied smile—the first real smile he'd displayed that entire evening.

"Tasted awful, too. How's Sirius?"

"Suffering." Sirius supplied. Peter's smile widened. He looked vaguely psychotic.

"I'm so sorry for you."

"You are such an utter bastard."

"But we can't stay here," James said. "They'll trample us if Ed starts rocking. Can you stand up yet?" Sirius tried, and turned so white they thought he would faint again.

"Er. No."

"Right." Remus sighed. "I'll carry you. No, James's right, we can't stay here. Especially with you doing a credible impersonation of a wounded chicken."

"You can carry him?" Cynthia eyed his thin arms doubtfully.

"I'm stronger than I look." He lifted the protesting Marauder in his arms and swiftly carried him through the room to the table where they'd been sitting before, and deposited him on the only free chair. "There you go. Shall I get you something to drink?"

"Yes please," Sirius said quietly, and curled up on his chair. "And please, please get Peter away from me, before I hurt him. If I see him smile that way for one more second I'll commit homicide." 

"Sure," Remus said, and pulled his friend along with him. Peter looked back at Sirius one more time, and began to laugh. And even though Ed and his Weavers made enough noise to make talking all but impossible, his gleeful laughter could be heard for minutes after he had gone.

To be continued…

Next chapter: Sirius gets…healed, Remus snogs, and the virus spreads…


	5. VIRUS5

Right, here is chapter five. I'm beginning to get square-eyed from all the typing I'm doing, but I NEED to get this story out of my system : ) Especially since I'll go on holiday next week and won't be able to update for eight days. Boo. Again, thanks for the reviews. I'll answer a few questions:

I'm not sure what the word 'git' means exactly, but it's something like 'dork' or 'moron', I think.

There will be lots of Lupin angst, but there are a few things that need to happen before—virus spreading and so forth.

There may be some errors in who knows and who doesn't know that Lupin is a werewolf and the rest of the Marauders are animagi. Like I said, I write this so fast I haven't got time to read back every time. As it is, only Snape, Dumbledore and McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey know that Remus is a werewolf. Hagrid knows, but never thinks about it (evil grin). Apart from Lily, NOBODY knows that the Marauders are animagi.

Oh, before I forget: there's sex in this chapter. Nothing really graphic, but sex nonetheless. Nothing the average Buffy or Angel episode wouldn't show, though, so even if you're thirteen you don't need to call for the nearest parent for guidance : )

Okay, so much for the authorial notes. I hope you're still enjoying my story. I myself am displaying symptoms of addiction to my own story (bad, isn't it? But this is the first story I've thought out from beginning to end in years, and I'll go nuts if I don't write it down.) 

On with chapter five!

5. Sirius gets healed. Remus gets frustrated. Hagrid clucks over Trotters.

After watching his friends fidget for half an hour, Sirius told them to stop hovering and have fun.

"Are you sure?" James asked. His friend nodded sourly.

"Having you look at me as though I'm dying doesn't particularly help me, James. And Lily keeps laughing at me."

"I'm not laughing at you," Lily giggled. "It's just…"

"Rest assured, Lil, I'll be laughing at you too when you're lying somewhere severely hurt in body and soul. Now please go away and let me suffer in peace." Lily ruffled his hair, then leaned over.

"Are you sure? I mean, really sure? I can still try to heal you, you know." Sirius rolled his eyes.

"Puh-lease. Spare me. James'd kill me if you came anywhere _near_ my crotch." He managed a smile. "Go on, have fun. I'll be fine."

Finally, Lily and James went back to the dance floor, which left Sirius, Cynthia and Remus at the table. Peter had disappeared to some unknown place, for which Remus was thankful. The last time he'd looked his small friend in the eyes, his usual steady light brown irises were swirling like psychedelic patterns. He wasn't sure what would happen if a high Peter were let loose on Sirius. Probably nothing, with the state Sirius was in. Then again, he still had a wand. 

"You don't need to stay either, Moony," a still slightly hoarse voice cut through his worried thoughts. "I really will be fine." Remus combed his hands through his hair, absently noting that the small infection of the tick's head had scabbed over.

"Not everything is about you, Padfoot. I haven't got anything to do myself." Cynthia leaned her elbows on the table.

"What did you call him? Padfoot?" Remus stiffened, then rested his chin on his templed fingers.

"Yeah. It's his nickname. Moony's mine. Together, James, Sirius, Peter and me, we form the Marauders."

"Named thus by McGonagall." provided Sirius. "After she caught us fishing in the Lake one sunny morning…"

"At six o' clock." Cynthia laughed. 

"So you four form a gang. How quaint. Especially Peter being part of it. He doesn't strike me as the marauding type."

"He isn't, really." said Remus, and Sirius growled,

"Don't speak about Peter! I'm not finished with him yet." His last few words seemed very loud as the current song ended. "What's going on? Why'd they stopped?"

"I think the Weavers need watering," Cynthia guessed. She turned out to be right: Ed called for a break and a few buckets of water to hose his Weavers down. They had gotten quite dry after more than an hour of non-stop playing and were in need of refreshment.

During the pause, most dancers flocked towards the bar to have something to drink themselves. The air was stifling hot and heavy now; Remus's sensitive nose was assaulted with the scents of smoke, weed, perfume, sweat and alcohol and pheromones. After the single beer he'd had it was enough to make his head spin.

"Okay, I finally found something to do." he decided. "Be good while I'm gone, will you?"

"Where're you going?" Remus stood up and pointed his thumb to the windows.

"Outside. Get a bit of air. I'm suffocating." A third year Gryffindor gratefully plunked down on his vacated chair. "Anyway, I'll see you in a bit." Suddenly impatient to get out, he went away at a trot.

Outside, the air seemed freezing cold, but was wonderfully pure after the cloudy air in _the Three Broomsticks_. He inhaled deeply, clearing his head from fumes. Parties like this were great fun—well, not _that_ much fun, actually—but they always made him feel a little nauseous. He frowned as he caught a whiff of cannabis, and walked away until he didn't smell it anymore. A good breath of such a cigarette had him tottering on his legs for minutes, and he wanted to stay clear-headed. Maybe he'd have to carry Sirius back to the castle, if that kick really had done damage.

"Stupid git," he muttered aloud. "Not letting yourself get treated. There'll be no end to the complaining if he can't get it up next week."

A tinkering giggle made him look up, and a slow, shy smile spread over his face as he recognised the small, rather plump girl who was sitting on the window sill behind the roses.

"Hi Remus." she called softly. "Worrying about Sirius's misfortunes?" He grinned, and ducked behind the roses as well. A few petals fell down, and filled the air with their fragrance.

"Would you think me very silly if I did?" She nodded.

"Yes, I would. Sit down, there's more than enough space. Want a cigarette?"

"No thanks, I don't smoke."

"Good. Neither do I. I hate the smell of those things." She kicked her foot against the rose bush, watched a few more petals fall to the ground. The time for roses was over. "It's far too hot inside, don't you agree? Much nicer here, outside." Remus agreed.

"Though the music is good." She ummed.

"I'm not that much of a Weaver fan. I mean, they're _octopi_, for Chrissake. I can't stop thinking about their nasty beady eyes…although I think Ed's great." She smiled. In the changing light shining through the window her dark brown curls seemed red one moment, blue another. "So, why aren't you dancing?"

"I can't. No feeling for rhythm at all. Besides, I don't have a date."

"You don't?" She really seemed surprised. "Oh."

"You?"

"Er. No. Not really. Actually…I was stood up." She looked at her knees, showing beneath her narrow skirt. "Highly embarrassing."

"I can imagine." _Though not hardly as embarrassing as having ticks._ He grimaced and held out his hand.

"I could be your date for the rest of the evening?"

He half expected her to laugh and turn him down, but she didn't, and stared at him wide-eyed.

"You would?"

"Sure. Why not? Unless you don't want me to…"

"I do! I do!" She grasped his hand with her own, then dropped it and buried her face in her hands. "Oh God, that sounded so pathetic! You must think me such a trollop!" Remus laughed.

"I don't even know what a trollop is, let alone find you one." 

And he truly did not find her anything of the sort. If anything, he found her highly desirable. The crush he'd thought he'd been over had returned with a vengeance—and the full power of a sixteen year old's hormones—and if there was something he wanted, it was to gather his soft body in his arms and hold her for a long part of the night. He was grateful for the darkness and the uneven light, for he felt his cheeks burning. He must be beet red—just like her. _Oh hell, who gives a damn anyway._

"Um. I, er…so. Shall we be shy for a while, talk about uninteresting things and hold hands, or can I kiss you now?"

"Excuse me?" she asked, then shook her head. "Never mind, I heard you. Um, let me think. I don't want to…you know…but…"

"No, j-just kissing." Remus stuttered. He felt as if his hair might catch fire any time soon. _Embarrassing moments, take two. Saying the stupidest things when you finally get the chance to talk to the girl you've been fancying for three years. Ready…action!_

The girl giggled. He wished he could sink into the earth and disappear for good.

"Okay." she decided all of a sudden, and inched a bit closer to him.

"Okay?"

"Yes." She tilted her face up to him, smiling. Three years of longing and fantasies exploded in the pit of Remus's stomach, and even though she'd been much prettier in his fantasies than she was in reality, he was, for the moment, perfectly delighted.

"Right then," he said, took her in his arms and kissed her.

The pause lasted twenty minutes, and all the time Sirius sat pitifully on his chair, arms wrapped around his belly, trying to make conversation. Finally, when the Weavers were dripping water all over the stage, ready to continue, and the chairs were deserted, Cynthia tapped him on his arm.

"You've done enough suffering for one night." Sirius blinked.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean it's time you should let me look at it." The boy flushed, and looked away.

"It's embarrassing…"

"Maybe, but not half as embarrassing as a certain rumour I could spread."

"You wouldn't…!"

"Does it still hurt?" Sirius nodded. "D'you think you can walk?"

"Maybe…why?"

"Because I've got my mind set on you, and I'm not going to let Hector spoil my plans." She stood up, brushed her hair out of her face and took his arm. "Come on. At least try." Obediently, Sirius pushed himself to his feet. He couldn't straighten up all the way, but at least he could stand, now. He prayed that no Slytherins would see him; it would be so bad for his ego to be imitated all week.

"Okay, I'm standing. I might even walk, if I go slowly."

"You're my hero."

"Sure, mock me," he said bitterly. "Make me even more miserable than I already am."

"I'm not mocking you. I'm admiring you. And I'm planning to stop your misery as soon as we get upstairs, so stop complaining. Come along." Dragging him with her like a mother with her toddler son, she made for the staircase. The first few meters were incredibly painful for Sirius, but after a couple of steps he actually began to feel a little better. The pangs of pain first shooting through the entire lower half of his body faded a little in his stomach and now concentrated in his balls—which was still bad, but an improvement nevertheless. He didn't know what Cynthia had in mind, but at least he felt better enough to be curious.

They arrived at the stairs and managed to climb it, disregarding the snogging students on every step, and finally arrived on the first floor, where Madam Rosmerta had her billiard  rooms. Sirius raised his eyebrow. He had spent quite some hours in a few of these rooms, and he was convinced that they were used for that particular activity this evening as well.

"I'm sure they're loaded," he said, leaning against the wall. "If they start kissing on the stairs you can be certain that the billiard rooms are taken."

"Maybe," Cynthia said mysteriously. She opened the first door, muttered an apology and shut it, grinning widely. "This one is. One couple more and they'll be sharing laps."

"Told you so."

"Stop being a smart aleck, Sirius. I'm still a year older than you are. I've taken precautions. One of these rooms is bound to be vacant. I only need to…nope, not this one. Sorry! This one then? No…Cute boy, though. Aha, here we are." She opened the fourth door and pulled Sirius inside. It was utterly empty. 

"I put a repelling charm on the door the day after you asked me," she said matter of factly. "Nobody besides me'd go in unless they were being chased by demons."

"Pretty close for me, that," Sirius muttered, but he followed her to the overstuffed sofa in the corner and sat down. "Now what?"

"Now, we continue what we were doing until your friend told us to behave."

"That's all?" A look of relief passed over his features. "I can do that!"

Which he proved immediately. Sirius prided himself on the fact that he could make women swoon in his arms, and kissing alone didn't involve any body parts below the arms (which were necessary to stroke, hold and tease). 

The only problem was, he noticed after a few minutes, that Cynthia herself was no stranger to the art of kissing, and the rest of his body was beginning to react to that. And that reaction was growing increasingly painful. He squirmed a little, unwilling to stop but getting very uncomfortable all the same.

"Cynthia…"

"Don't stop," she murmured, and began to undo the buttons of his shirt. Even if he hadn't been kicked in the groin he would have felt as if he were ready to burst his trousers—_damn those things! I won't ever wear them again!_; as it was, he was moaning softly in a mixture of pleasure and pain and he didn't seem able to stop doing it either. One of Cynthia's breast pressed against his chest; she was sitting next to him on the sofa, one leg pulled up beneath her to enable her to half-turn her upper body towards him and kiss him without sitting on his lap, and her left hand was drawing lazy circles on his chest, going a bit lower every time she completed a circle. He was aware of what she was doing, but couldn't help gasping when she finally reached the fastening of his trousers.

"Ohhw…" She smiled against his lips, and he kissed her again, pulling her closer, trembling as she deftly unbuttoned his trousers. By now he didn't know what was worse: the pain or the need, and when she touched his flesh he gave a small sob of frustration.

"Take it easy," Cynthia whispered. She fished her wand out of the special compartment in her jeans and pushed him back into the pillows. "You'll be fine in a couple of minutes."

Compared to her fingers her wand was hard and stiff, but she used both of them with great skill. While she was healing him she did not stop kissing, murmuring her spells against his lips. He wondered if she'd think less of him if he screamed out loud; until now he'd been able to keep more or less quiet, but whatever she was doing—perhaps the combination of healing and stroking—had him digging his fingers into the sofa's frame with the effort to remain that way.

"Still hurts?" Cynthia purred. He opened his eyes, took a deep, steadying breath.

"Just…a little. I'm…" he arched up into her hands and bit on a piece of shirt as she cupped his balls.

"I guess you are," she chuckled, and after a while the pain disappeared completely, leaving him only extraordinarily aroused and panting her name against her mouth. Cynthia put her wand away.

"Feel better?"

"Yesss…God, yes…"

"Good. So I can have my payment now?" Sirius looked up at her; she was straddling his thighs, blouse hanging open to the waist, her hair falling down to his chest. It was a sight he wished he could keep in his memory forever. He grinned.

"Payment? Oh, I guess. Although I really hope you weren't planning sex. I'm gay, you know, and I couldn't…ohhh…." She squeezed, and he began to scrabble for her zipper. "You're not…a virgin…are you…?"

"No. I'm the whore of Raveclaw. Been there, done that. And I've taken my pills as well, so…—Christ, Sirius, can't you hurry up?"

"You're kinda…distracting me there, love…would you stop doing that, you're driving me nuts…" He made a triumphant sound as he finally found her zipper. "Got it!"

One floor lower, Ed Zoë and his Weavers started a number called _Hurricane_. Sirius couldn't have described it more aptly. Later, he would fondly remember Cynthia crying his name into his neck over and over again, and the scent of stale cigarette smoke combined with her perfume, and the smell of leather and arousal. He couldn't recall how long they were in the billiard room, but when they opened the door and peeked outside, Ed had gone and only a few locals still hung around the bar. Hector, he was relieved to see, was nowhere in sight. He was too tired to fight, and he would have felt obliged to fight the utter piece of shit if he'd seen him.

"Time to go home, love," Madam Rosmerta remarked with a straight face as he came ambling down the stairs on legs as limp as spaghetti. "Your friends already left." She looked Cynthia up and down, smiling just a little bit. "You look like you had a good evening." The girl smiled shyly; with their lips swollen and their hair dishevelled, they must look a sight indeed.

"It could've been worse, yeah." Sirius grinned, and yawned.

"What time is it anyway?" 

"Almost three." He cursed.

"Filch'll have a cow!"

"If he sees us."

"True. Where's your cloak? Where's mine, come to speak of it?"

"There are the coats that were left behind, love," Rosmerta pointed, and a few minutes later they were running down the road, back to Hogwarts. They managed to sneak in unnoticed, neatly avoiding Filch's Persian feline, and said their goodbyes in front of the statue of the one-eyed witch.

"Wait," Sirius whispered, and walked after her when she would have left for her dormitory. "I still wanted to know. How did you…you healed me. How did you do that?" Cynthia swished her wand.

"Lily Evans follows Medical Sorcery, doesn't she?"

"Yeah, but she isn't near anywhere as good as you are."

"But then she isn't a soon-to-be Medi-witch either, and I am. I start at Saint Mungo's coming September."

"I see." He suddenly looked a little sad, as if the idea of a time after Hogwarts distressed him. "So, after next semester I won't see you again."

"No. No, I don't think so. Unless you come and visit me at the hospital."

"Uh-huh." That look was there again, the wistful look that made him beautiful rather than just handsome. She hugged him, laid her head on his shoulder.

"But there's still the remains of this semester, and the next before I go." That seemed to cheer him up.

"That's right." He hugged her back, then stepped away. They looked at each other awkwardly for a moment, and he chuckled, a little nervously. _Weird. I didn't feel so uneasy when I was banging her brains out on the pool table. _

"Good night, Sirius. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Good night." She hesitated, then waved and quickly ran away. Sirius climbed up the stairs to the Gryffindor tower, murmured the password to the Fat Lady, who was snappy because he was the umpteenth student who woke her up, and tiptoed into the sixth years' dormitory. Peter lay sprawled over his bed, snoring softly. His face was black with mud.

"Right. I don't think so." Sirius muttered. "First you laugh at me in my hour of need, now you soil my bed. Off with you." And he unceremoniously dumped him on the floor. Peter slept on unhindered.

"Sirius?" A shadowy figure sat up in the bed next to him.

"Yes James?"

"You're late. We couldn't find you."

"That's okay." He pulled at his boot laces and kicked just as long till his boots came off. "I hope you didn't worry about me."

"Worry? About you?" James laughed. "You seem to walk just fine right now. Did Cynthia heal you?"

"You knew she was a Healer?"

"Lily told me."

"Ah." Removing the leather trousers was like peeling his own skin off; he got stuck halfway his thighs. James snickered in the dark.

"Need help?"

"I can't find my wand…"

"_Enlargo_." The trousers dropped on the floor. Sirius heaved a deep sigh of relief.

"Thanks." He kicked them away, reaching for his pyjama bottoms. "It'll be a long time until I'll wear those again."

"Aw. You've had your fun, haven't you?" Sirius snorted.

"If you count having your balls squeezed to mush as having fun, yeah, I guess so." James chuckled. "Where's Moony, by the way? He's not in his bed, is he?"

"I dunno. Last saw him talking with Julie Pelting. Maybe she dragged him off to a hayloft or something."

"Great. We'll be godfathers to curly-haired little werebabies. And where's Will?"

"In the bathroom, probably," James yawned. "He's been running to and fro since he came in about half an hour ago."

"Alcohol abuse is a bad thing."

"Ha. And you're dead sober." His friend laughed softly.

"After all the exercise I've had I'm sober as a daisy." James groaned.

"Too…much…info…"

"Serves you right for not trusting me." He stretched, luxuriating in his freedom of movement. "So, should we wait up for Remus? I'm not sure I can stay awake for much longer." 

"Me neither. I'm knackered. And Lily kept reading on my toes; my feet are black and blue…"

"Good night."

"Night."

"Night," also grumbled Will Deveraux, who came staggering back into the room. It was quiet for a few seconds.

"Or maybe not." Will choked, and ran away again.

"And that's four," James said, with a wicked smile.

"Night once more, Sirius." But Sirius was already fast asleep. James turned on his side and closed his eyes. Within a minute he was sleeping as well.

_Well, that's cleared up as well, then,_ Remus said to himself. He was sitting beneath one of the great oak trees in the Garden, his long legs drawn up and arms wrapped around his knees. _Not much of a surprise there, but still…_He sighed.

He liked Julie. He really did. But after three hours of kissing and fondling, he knew liking was all he did. For a girl who firmly maintained that she didn't want to go 'any further' than kissing, she certainly had known what places to touch to make him want to tear off her clothes and brutally have her in any way imaginable. But still, that had been nice. He was too familiar with unfulfilled desire to make a problem out of that. _But she'd never love me, if she knew what I was._

_Do you like animals, Julie?_ The Question he asked every girl he liked. It was the first question he had asked Lily as well.

_Animals? Oh sure! Well, I like cats, and birds, and horses. I don't like dogs. They're so… toothy and pungent. Why?_

"Oh, nothing, Julie. Well, apart from the fact that I change into a big toothy pungent wolf every month, of course, but that shouldn't bother you." He smiled bitterly. It had been a rewarding evening, but he couldn't help feeling frustrated. After dropping her off at Hogwarts he'd sneaked out the door again, hoping that a midnight stroll would calm him down a bit. His head was still spinning with smoke and alcohol.

Now it was almost five, and he was still sitting here, cold to the bone but wide awake. _I'm glad it's Sunday today. I couldn't have performed a single spell without messing up._ He yawned, rubbed his eyes and scrambled to his feet. After sitting for such a long time, his legs were tingling. _What now? Back to the castle? I can't sleep anyway. I wonder if Peter made it home safely. And Sirius. Would the unicorn still be alive?_ He kicked at the leaves on the ground—almost autumn again. In the winter his brown fur turned to grey. _I could check. Just a peek through the window. Hagrid wouldn't mind. Maybe he's awake already, I could have a cup of tea with him._ Decision made, he wasted no more time, and jogged down the path towards Hagrid's cottage. In the darkness, his eyes lit up like lamps in the light of the stars. The moon had appeared again as well, just a tiny white splinter low in the sky. It was dark, but he didn't mind, he knew the way by scent alone.

That was so odd about being a werewolf: that it wasn't a bad thing, not really. If you didn't count the change, it really was wonderful. Enhanced senses of smell, sight, taste and hearing, a solid immune system, inhuman strength and, if you weren't shot down by a raging mob, a longer life as well.

_But there's always the Change, and the danger. And the fact that I can never have a girlfriend because I turn into a monster every few weeks._

Hagrid's cottage was right in front of him now. The windows were unlit, and not even Jaws's barks broke the silence. _He must be asleep…_Slowly, he walked towards the shed, his hands held out to keep whipping twigs out of his face. The unicorn's light shone dimly through the window. _So it must be alive._

"Oy! What d'yeh think yer doin' there, mate?" a loud voice boomed from behind him, and he flung himself against the wall with a strangled yelp. A dog the size of a small boar bounded up to him, baying as if it wanted to tear him to pieces. "Get outta there!"

"Hagrid!" Remus squeaked. "It's me, Remus!" Jaws had planted both forefeet on his chest and was growling furiously. "It's me!"

"Remus? Wha' on earth are yeh doin' here? Down, Jaws! Here! Are yeh alrigh', Remus?" He shone a bright light in the boy's face. "Yeh look a li'l pale." Remus shielded his eyes from the light.

"I couldn't sleep. I wanted to know whether the unicorn was still alive. It is, isn't it?" Hagrid's teeth showed briefly in the mass of his beard.

"Yeah, it's still hangin' on. Yeh know what, follow me. Now yeh're hear, yeh migh' jus' as well help me. Come on, to me hut." Remus, still blinking his blinded eyes, trotted after him.

"I've bin up mos' of the night as well," the gamekeeper said, putting his lamp away and opening his door with an enormous key. "Less make a li'l light…there. No, Jaws stays outside. Out, Jaws!" Remus closed the door behind him. "Bin out in the Fores' since sundown, chasin' Centaurs. The whole si'uation's got 'em skittish as hell."

"What situation?" Hagrid shrugged. He opened his moleskin coat, and Remus finally saw that he wasn't the only creature Hagrid had taken in. Several white, furry balls as large as a quaffle were tucked securely beneath the large man's arm.

"The virus. Can yeh take 'em over for a while? Thanks." He piled ball after ball in Remus's arms. Up close he could see the balls had pink hands and feet, and sniffling pink snouts.

"What are those? And what virus? The same as the unicorn's?" Hagrid busied himself behind his couch, apparently building a bed for his guests near the hearth.

"Yeah. I thinks it's the same virus. Those're Trotters."

"Trotters?"

"Righ'. Yeh don' see 'em often—this is the only nest in the Forest. They all got the virus. It's spreading like hell." Remus granted that the Trotters were very warm. Their small claws scratched weakly over his arms.

"I think they're afraid of me."

"I'm almos' ready. Hold 'em fer a li'l longer, if yeh can…" One of the Trotters keened. "Oh me cute beastie, don' worry, yeh'll be safe in here. Hand 'em over now, Remus. There yeh go…" Clucking soothingly, Hagrid eased all seven Trotters down in their new nest. "There, finished. Wash yer hands, Remus. I don' know much abou' this disease, bu' it migh' affect other non-magical animals as well. We wouldn't want all the pets die out, would we?" The boy shook his head, obediently rinsed his hands.

"You still haven't found a cure?"

"No' yet. It's a nasty bug, this one. Mutates all the time, attacks all animals sooner or later. I've already found a dead Hippogriff as well—Tha's why the Centaurs didn't wanna talk ter me. Afraid I migh' carry the disease wi' me. Even Aragogg wasn't too fond t'see me comin'."

"Aragogg?" Hagrid cleared his throat.

"Yeah, well, an old friend of mine. Care fer some tea?" Remus smiled. _I wonder what kind of monster this Aragogg might be._

"Please." he said. Even though it was exactly positive, this morning turned out to be rather interesting. Soon all thoughts of a plump girl who didn't like dogs had disappeared completely from his head. 

To be continued…

Next chapter: Divination, and its effects on Remus. No, this is not what you're expecting : )


	6. VIRUS6 Divination

I have no notes, for a change, so here is chapter 6.

6.

Morning had broken when Remus made his way back to the castle. The Trotters were dozing peacefully now, he was warm from Hagrid's fire and his belly was taut with tea. He was very tired now, but infinitely more happy than a few hours ago. Happy enough to dive into bed and sleep until noon, if possible.

One of the House ghosts, the Fat Friar, waved at him before disappearing through a wall, but the rest of Hogwarts was still asleep.

"Oh no…" the Fat Lady moaned as he knocked on her frame, "Can't you boys just _sleep_ during the night?" Remus grinned.

"Sorry. It's getting light outside, though." She muttered something about nocturnal animals and pasty complexions, and let him through. He softly padded up the stairs, opened his room door and sat down on the edge of his bed. A thin beam of cold morning light fell though a slit between the curtains, straight on Peter Pettigrew's face. He was lying on the floor near Sirius's bed, mouth wide open and face pitch black.

_I _so_ want to know what has happened to you_, Remus thought. _I really can't wait to find out what you've been up to this night._ James, Sirius and Will were sleeping as well, Will looking just a little worse for wear, with dark shadows beneath his eyes. Of both his Marauder friends all he could see were their black mops of hair: both boys burrowed beneath their blankets like moles. Repressing the sudden urge to get a pair of frying pans and a wooden spoon and wake them up, Remus stripped and crawled into bed.

"You'd better have turned your alarm clock off, James," he murmured sleepily. "Because if you haven't, I'm going to force those Bludgers down your throat."

However, he had turned his clock off, and when James awoke, the sun was shining from its zenith in the sky. He yawned, stretched and automatically looked at Remus's bed—a habit picked up from the times his friend Changed. Most of the time, a look at that bed could tell him whether the moon was full or not.

_He's back. All right._ James crawled out of bed, grabbed a towel and sauntered towards the bathroom, hoping that he wouldn't have to share it with a bunch of hung over fellow Gryffindors.

The house elves considerately offered breakfast several times that morning, and prolonged lunch with two hours. At two PM, the Marauders were sitting at the Gryffindor table cramming food down their throats as if they'd been starving for days. Especially Remus and Sirius ate like maniacs; the first because his body's metabolism equalled that of a young wolf, the latter because physical exercise always made him hungry. While they were silent, James tried to get Peter to tell what had happened to him last night, but the boy kept shaking his head, saying he didn't remember.

"Did it involve pigs?" James asked. "You were covered in mud."

"I…I don't think so. I can't remember any pigs."

"Cows, then?"

"No."

"Slytherins?" Peter shrugged, and took another bite of his sandwich. 

"I really don't know." Sirius clicked his tongue.

"What _can_ you remember, Wormtail?" The boy gazed at him slyly.

"I remember laughing very hard…" Sirius turned red.

"Yeah? Well, can you remember my fist connecting with your nose? It went a bit like this!"

"_Sirius_." Remus caught his fist before it could make contact. "You had it coming."

"Yeah!" Peter said with sudden heat. "You certainly had. Cynthia was…"

"Not the least bit interested in you. And even if she was, you didn't ask her, _I _did. And I don't feel at all sorry for dating her. You were right, Peter, she's pretty, sweet and intelligent to boot. Precisely the reason why you wouldn't know what to do if she sat on your lap and asked how you wanted to be pleased." His voice had gotten steadily harsher, but he kept it down for the Slytherins. Although many of them were hung over and too miserable to crack jokes at his expense, he'd had a few inquiries as to how his balls were doing after their acquaintance with Hector's boot. The fact that he was able to walk around properly improved matters drastically, but it didn't stop him from being furious. Sirius didn't forgive things easily.

Peter faced him, turning red himself, but then looked away.

"Yeah," he said softly. "I know. I know I'm hopeless with women. I hope that makes you feel good, Sirius, because it sickens me to the core. Doesn't change how I feel, though." And that shut Sirius up faster than a punch in the mouth.

"Peter…"

"It's true," Peter maintained. His fingers were plucking his sandwich apart, but he didn't seem to notice. "It's always been that way. And you were always laughing at me for being such a git. Well, I got my own back yesterday, and yes, I know I shouldn't have laughed at you, but…" a small smile curved the corners of his mouth. "Seeing you sitting there, all curled up and looking like you'd just swallowed something large and spiky…" he snickered. James, recalling that particular image, began to chuckle as well.

"I was in pain!" Sirius hissed, but he was also fighting a smile. "I must say I don't need enemies with you guys around. And Remus keeps on eating! Why aren't you telling them to stop giggling?"

"Waste of time and energy," Remus said, and took another sandwich. "I really can't be bothered." He took an enormous bite.

"Bothered or buggered?" Remus closed his eyes with long-suffering patience and chewed until he could speak more or less clearly.

"Firiuf? Fjut uf."

The peace re-established, the Marauders spent the rest of the day in each other's company.

The following Monday, Dumbledore asked for their attention during breakfast. They all knew, he said, that the Forest on the ground's floor was prohibited terrain for all students. He would like to stress that now it was not only prohibited, but very dangerous terrain as well.

"A few days ago a unicorn was found, infected with an as of yet unidentified disease. This disease seems to be spreading at an alarming rate. We have found no cure or even the cause yet, but we do know that this virus is very, very nasty." He leaned forward, his twinkling eyes serious for a change. "It affects all creatures in the forest, and makes them unreliable in conduct. All students whose pets are cats or rats, make sure that you keep your animal inside the castle. We can't risk them catching this disease. And please," he looked a few people square in the eye, including the Marauders, who shifted on their chairs, "restrain your curiosity. I will not call anyone by name, but I'm very well aware that not all the rules are obeyed by every pupil. In this case, however, no risks should be taken. The Forest is off limits. Trespassing will be severely punished. That's all."

As soon as he had sat down a murmur rose up.

"He knows!" Peter squeaked. "He knows we're…"

"Shut up. He doesn't know anything. He's just guessing." James shook his head.

"I don't think so. He knows, I'm sure. He just doesn't care that we're doing it—until now, because of this disease. But that's okay, we can do other things. We still didn't explore that hazy part on the fourth floor, you know, the part that the map won't show." Sirius agreed enthusiastically, Peter simply nodded his consent. Remus said nothing. 

_If we can't go into the forest, what's going to happen to me next month?_

"Moony? Is it okay with you too?" He blinked, then pushed his anxiousness away. Full moon was still more than three weeks from now.

"Fourth floor? Fine by me." And then they left for Ancient Runes. 

On Tuesday Remus finally had the chance to look at Professor Binns, and just like the rest he was amazed that the man was still teaching. However, after a while even his ghostly appearance became boring, and he went on with his _Quiz of teachonal habits_.

_Q: Why is Professor Binns still teaching after death?_

"Sirius?" His friend was in the middle of a jaw-cracking yawn, and he threw a small wad of paper into his mouth. Sirius began to cough.

"What?" 

"Shh!" But Professor Binn's voice droned on, and only Lily seemed to be paying attention.

"What?" Sirius repeated, softer this time.

"Why's Binns still teaching?"

"How should I know? Maybe he's necromatically tied to his books or something."

_a. Because he is necromantically tied to his books._ Remus grinned. 

"Any more theories?" James, who was sitting in front of him, looked over his shoulder.

"Perhaps because he still doesn't know he's dead?"

_b. Because he doesn't know he's dead,_ Remus scribbled.

"…and because of this seemingly unimportant fact, the treaty of Darna Hunn was rendered non-valuable," Binns intoned. "Therefore, a mere four years later, in 854 AD, write that down, Martha the Martyrous raised an army…"

"I know," Sirius hissed. "He's still teaching because he _does_ know he's dead, and he wants as many people as possible to join him. That's why he's trying to bore us to death." Remus grinned, and wrote it down. He added the last answer himself: _d. Because he wants to become famous as Binns the Boring, the only teacher known in history more tedious than the famous Marcello the Mind-Numbing._

All in all it was quite a pleasant hour.

After lunch James, Peter, Lily and Sirius went to Care of Magical Creatures, while Remus climbed the stairs to the abode of Divination.

"I'm curious, actually," Sidh Patil whispered as they climbed the sports to the trapdoor. (They looked silver, but to Remus's relief they were made of steel, and he could touch them without difficulty). "What can she be planning, and will I survive it?"

"I've learned long ago to just ignore all her predictions." Sidh laughed.

"I don't mean her predictions, I mean her means of unfogging yourself. Do I really want to know what lies beyond the veil?" Remus hadn't even thought about it that way. Suddenly, he felt a little afraid.

_I know what lies beyond the veil. It's wild, and preys on humans, and tears its own body apart if it cannot run free._ He shivered, despite the scented candles and the incense.

"Already feeling the call of the Outer World, Mister Lupin?" Trelawney's lilting voice spoke up from the smoky room. She was sitting in her winged armchair, her glasses glittering in the light of the candles. He smiled at her, then, as he sat down next to Sidh, stuck out his tongue.

"Be careful you won't get lost," Sidh sniggered. "You might miss your veil on your way back."

After a short while, when all fourteen students, four Gryffindors, two Slytherins, five Hufflepuffs and three Ravenclaws were seated, Professor Trelawney handed them each a small porcelain bowl, and a packet of what looked like dried leaves.

"Here you go, yes, pass them on if you like…Do you all have a bowl and a Key?"

"Key?" Marjorie Mincing, the girl from Slytherin asked. "All I've got is this bag of tea leaves."

"They are not," Trelawney corrected, "tea leaves, my dear. Those herbs you've got there are a mixture which is known as the Key to Outside Travelling. No, miss Brockhurst, they will not cause a rash. You do not drink these herbs; you light them. I sense that you have all read chapter one to three from _Unfogging Yourself_ and the introduction to _Beyond the Veil_? Even you, Sidh, although you've been skipping through the pages much too hastily." Sidh looked shaken, and she smiled beatifically. "No need to be overly concerned, mister Patil. Just pay attention and you'll be quite alright.

'Now, let's commence." She opened her little packet and shook its contends into the bowl. "As you have all read, the mind is blocked by an inner wall. You can't see beyond, because that wall is in front of you when you have turned your eye inward. The Key enables you to open a door in that wall—it would be much too dangerous to try to pull the whole wall down, I'm sure you understand. That would take advanced magic, dark magic, even, far beyond my humble skills." She waved her wand in the air. "Have you all placed you Key in your bowl? Good. Then all it takes is a little spark," she touched the tip of her wand to the herbs, and they began to smoke, "and a few deep, steady breaths. That's it, mister Sujet, breathe in deeply." The Slytherin boy began to cough, choking on the smoke. Remus looked down on his Key; at the moment it only made his eyes water.

_If she keeps this up she'll be hyperventilating within a minute,_ he thought, fighting down a chuckle. Trelawney was taking such immense breaths that she'd gotten quite red in the face.

"Breathe, mister Lupin! It won't do you any harm."

The herbs smelled of mint, something cloyingly sweet he did not recognise, and cannabis. He took a great big lungful of it, coughed it out and eyed at the burning stuff suspiciously. _Surely it can't be weed…_

Next to him, Sidh had begun to giggle.

_It _can't_ be weed…right?_

…

"You're doing great, my dears," the great glittering insect in front of the class said huskily. Fourteen drugged-looking children winked up at her. "Can you see anything yet? Remember to relax. Be introspect. See beyond the veil."

"I can't see a bloody thing," the only Ravenclaw boy muttered. His neighbour, Marjorie Mincing, was staring hazily at the ceiling.

"I think I dooo…" she drew out. "It's beautiful…"

Remus blinked. The ceiling was moving. It used to be an ordinary stone-and-wood-beam ceiling, but right now it was covered with bright orange threads, and they were forming patterns all over the place, descending slowly down the walls, until they reached the floor.

"Is that a frog?" one of the girls asked, her voice slow and heavy as if she were asleep. "What's it doing on the window?" 

He looked at the window. There was no frog, but he did notice that the glass was behaving rather peculiarly. When he touched it with his finger, it stuck to his skin and drew a long sticky thread. _Ah. Trelawney's cocoon,_ he understood, amazed why he had not worked that out before.

 Professor Trelawney flexed her great butterfly wings and stuck out a long, long tongue—right into the ear of one the Gryffindor girls. 

"That's gross," he tried to say, but his tongue did a weird flip-flop in his mouth and all that came out was gibberish. "Hey. Weird. Do you have that as well?" Sidh did not reply, as he was watching his fingers drip down the table like melting wax. The threads of cocoony window had covered him almost from head to foot.

_But I'm not seeing beyond the veil…I think…_Suddenly it was very important that he did. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply. His head was filled with sweet smoke, but apart from the crazy patterns from the ceiling (now dancing against the back of his eyelids) he did not see anything.

…

"Why is it raining?"

He woke up with a start. The room was filled with small white feathers, but that was only logical, with so many geese sitting on the blackboard. Far away, someone seemed to be crying. Closer to him, he heard the sound of a quill scratching on paper: Sidh was writing away like mad. A thick role of parchment hung down from his desk, most of it covered with writing.

"What…w-what are you wriiii-ting?" Remus drawled.

"Seee-crets," the other boy answered, without stopping. "Secrets from Outside…" A great many flies were buzzing around his head, but he did not seem to notice them.

"Oh…maybe I should write something down too…" He rummaged around in his satchel, removing two large fish that had somehow crept in, and found his quill and parchment. For some reason the quill was singing softly.

"But what should I write?"

…

"Write what you See," Professor Trelawney's head appeared in front of him, startling him so badly he almost screamed. Her great bug eyes winked lazily beneath her antennae. "I shall open the windows in a bit. Time flies when you're having fun, doesn't it?"

"My legs are gone!" somebody screamed. The professor clicked her tongue.

"Well, I must go. Do try to See something, mister Lupin. You'd be surprised at what your wall is protecting." 

She was gone, and he stared dimly at his parchment. Three inch of it were covered in writing.

_How did I write this? And when? And what _did_ I write?_ His arms felt very heavy, and when he studied them he saw that they had Changed. Instead of arms and hands he now had paws, and in his right paw the quill was still singing. It was singing 'Groove is in the Heart'.

Well well. I've Changed. Isn't that odd? I didn't feel anything. And nobody's watching me. Should I write that down? 

Trelawney did something with the window, and it exploded into a thousand pieces. The Hufflepuff girls shrieked as they were showered with glass.

"Oops." Trelawney giggled, and sat down in her chair. A cold gust of wind blew through the room, taking some of the smoke with it. "Welcome back, my dears. Did you have an interesting journey?" 

The only Ravenclaw boy was sobbing brokenly into his arms while the others sat in their chairs, looking around them with surprised lethargy—it really was as if they'd been gone for some time, and only now returned. 

Remus rubbed his eyes. 

There were still geese on the blackboard.

"Where's he keeping? We'll be late," Lily said, checking her watch.

"Maybe Trelawney did something to him, the ugly old bat." James grinned.

"I doubt it. I've seen Remus talk to her; he winds her around his fingers." Sirius covered his eyes.

"That's gross!"

"Is that him?" Lily wondered, standing on her toes to see more clearly (one of her inexplicable habits). "Yes, yes I do think so, and that's Sidh and Tony Morrison. And Katie and Linda. But what's wrong with them?" The three boys and the girls slowly walked towards them, holding their arms out on either side, taking small considerate steps as if they were tightrope walking.

"Hey Katie. What was it like?" The ginger-haired girl flashed her a rather vague smile.

"What was it like? Oh, I don't knooow…"

"It was all a bit…confusing…" Remus supplied. He swayed dangerously far to the left and would have fallen if Sirius hadn't steadied him. "Whooo... I still feel a little bit…woooozy…"

"Woozy or not, we should get inside," Lily urged. "I don't want to miss the Hundred-year Bloom."

"Ooh suuure…" Sidh agreed. He followed her, walking like duckling on the shore.

The Hundred-year Bloom was separated from the rest of the plants, and now stood in a special section of the greenhouse. According to Professor Cactuar it would start blooming today, and he had invited today's classes to come and witness the wonder. So now they were all standing around a waist-high, sleek and rather uninteresting plant, waiting for the miracle to happen.

"Are you alright?" James hissed, when Remus leaned heavily against his shoulder. The weight disappeared, then he heard Sirius ask the same. The weight came back again.

"Why is the floor moving?" 

He began to fall forward, and James hastily grasped his arm. In the low light required for the Hundred-year Bloom to, well, bloom, Remus's pupils shone like small moons, covering almost his entire eye.

"Silence please," Professor Cactuar whispered. "Noise disturbs the blooming." Remus giggled, then clasped his hands over his mouth.

"Sowwy…"

Careful not to draw Cactuar's attention, Sirius inched closer to James, making sure to stand behind Remus when he whispered in his friend's ear,

"He's _high_!" In the sparse light the dimple in James's cheek made strange shadows on his face as he grinned.

"I know."

"He's going to fall over anytime, if we don't catch him."

"He isn't the only one either. Look at Sidh. I don't know what he's doing, but it looks kinda odd to me."

"What on earth did Trelawney do to them?"

"There it comes!" Professor Cactuar hissed suddenly. "Pay attention now!" Drugged classmates forgotten, they all focussed on the Hundred-year Bloom, which had begun to rustle softly. Then at once, one of the pods hanging from the plant's twigs popped open, and a waterfall of colour streamed out of it: red, pink, bright yellow and a deep indigo at the edges. A flower the size of a cauliflower and roughly the shape of a fuchsia dangled from the pod, glowing faintly in the darkness. As Cactuar flicked on his wand, most of the students let out a sigh of wonder (apart from Remus, Sidh, Tony, Linda and Katie, who covered their eyes with a pained squeak). The flower's bright colours made it look like an exotic bird rather than a flower. A sweet, heavy fragrance filled the air.

"Isn't she beautiful?" Cactuar sobbed. "For twenty years I've taken care of her, and now she finally blooms." Sirius, less impressed by the flower's beauty, laughed softly. 

"You'd say he's talking about his daughter." he whispered. James nodded, but he was unwilling to take his eyes off the Bloom. Although he wouldn't want to admit it, he could understand why their teacher was so emotional about the flower.

_Imagine_, he thought,_ waiting for a flower to bloom for more than twenty years. Like waiting for your child to get born, and wait twenty years._

But when Professor Cactuar was still lying on his knees, stroking the leaves of his beloved plant, he lost interest.

"Maybe," Lily said, "we should leave him alone with the Bloom for a while. You know, let them have some time together."

"It's not as if he'd notice if we went away," James agreed, and with an eye of Remus, who was sitting on a large flower pot with his head in his hands, "Yeah, let's go. See if we can wake Moony up." Apparently the Ravenclaws had the same idea. After a muffled goodbye to their teacher, who muttered something intelligible back, they all left the greenhouse, those who'd had Divination swaying drunkenly as they walked.

  
 "So what _did_ you do during Divination?" James wondered when they had gathered their Quidditch items and were on their way to the pit. "Share joints?" Remus shook his head and almost walked into the wall.

"No, no…but we did have to burn herbs, and maybe there was some stuff in it…or opium…or something like that…" He smiled dreamily. "I had these really weird visions…and the window was make of silk…"

"Sounds like a good trip," Sirius grinned.

"But I didn't like the geese…"

"I can imagine." snickered Peter. Usually he was the one walking around stoned, either because the Slytherins had put something in his tea, or because James or Sirius slipped him purple beans. Seeing down-to-earth Remus head to the stars on silver wings was a new experience. Remus frowned.

"I really wish you wouldn't make fun of me," he said testily, as far as that was possible without any intonation in his voice. "If you'd seen Trelawney stick her tongue into somebody's ear you wouldn't be feeling all that well either, you know…"

His friends stared at him dumbly, then burst into laughter.

"What? D'you think I'm lying?"

More guffaws.

"Would you stop laughing at me?"

James beat Peter on the back with hilarity, and Sirius hunched over to gasp for breath while Lily leaned limply against the wall, giggling helplessly. Remus looked very angry indeed.

"This is not funny!"

"It is…it is!" James chortled, then tried to regain control as he saw a familiar gnarled old man approaching, his face predicting thunder and rainstorms for the following weeks to come. And to make things worse, Snape followed behind him. "Oy," He elbowed Sirius in the side. "It's Dorkham." Sirius fell to his knees, eyes streaming.

"Oh…" was all he got out, "Oh…" He crammed his fists into his mouth to keep from howling with laughter. Remus, unaware of the approaching danger, scowled at him with his dilated eyes.

"Stop that! It's incredibly rude to laugh at people's traumatic experiences…" 

"WHAT do ye think ye're doin' here?" Dorkham barked from right behind him.

Remus turned around.

Saw Dorkham, and the sneering Snape.

Let out a strangled, highly unmasculine 'Eep!'

Reached for his wand…

And thrust it into Dorkham's face, screaming "Ridiculous!" Dorkham stared at him with comical confusion before turning red with rage. Remus eyed him with growing panic and shook his wand.

"Ridiculous!" he tried again. James and Sirius were laughing so hard they could hardly breathe. Behind Dorkham's vengeful figure, Snape was laughing just as hard, although he tried to keep his chortling under control by covering his mouth with his hands.

"It's not working!" Remus wailed despairingly. "He's still here. My wand must be broken…"

"WHAT ON EARTH DO YE THINK YE'RE DOIN', BOY?" the potions teacher hollered, spraying saliva all around. "DO YE THINK YE CAN MAKE FUN O' ME LIKE THAT?" Sirius deemed it time to scramble. Still hiccupping with mirth he took his confused friend by the arm.

"I'm so…sorry…professor," he wheezed, pulling Remus away. "He's…he's a little mixed up…at the moment. Divination, you know." Dorkham bared his yellow teeth.

"Yes, I know," he sneered. "Divination. Of course. If you boy," to Remus, who stumbled backwards, "just had a glimpse o' the future, you probably knew I was goin' to take twenty points from yer House, isn't that so, mister Lupin?" Remus gaped.

"What? No, I didn't know…but the geese…"

"Come along, Moony,' Sirius begged, as James and Peter doubled up again. "You're only making it worse." Dorkham fumed.

"Worse? Worse? I'll show ye worse the next time I see ye in class, mister Lupin! And you too, black!"

A spark of recognition flickered in the boy's eyes.

"Don't say it!" Sirius pleaded, but Remus opened his mouth with an air of finality, looked Dorkham straight in the eye and said, "I really, really can't be buggered, sir."

And then Sirius hauled him along, dragged him all the way to the other end of the hallway and down the stairs, where he collapsed in a fit of hysterics and let him go.

"Never, ever do that again," he gasped when he could speak again. "You just took twelve years off my life. And twenty points from Gryffindor." Remus leaned his head against the wall.

"I really can't be bothered," he said, and closed his eyes. When the rest of their group had caught up with him, he was fast asleep.

To be continued…

Next chapter: McGonagall whacks some angst into Moony. Snape is obnoxious. 

Thanks for the reviews…I need more! More! I won't be able to write much during the weekend, so please cheer me up a bit…: )


	7. VIRUS 7

This is the last chapter I'll be able to update before I go on holiday. I'll be back in nine days, and hope to have chapter 8 ready a few days later. Thanks, all, for reviewing! It's really nice knowing people read my ficcie : )

I noticed, a little late, that the spell Remus uses in part 6 is _Riddikulus_, not _Ridiculous_, so I changed that. For the rest, if you have any suggestions or comments, be sure to fill them in in the review box : ) (shamelessly begging for reviews)

Anyway, enjoy!

7. Despicable truth and unwelcome revelations.

A good night's (and afternoon) sleep left Remus clear-headed and heavily flustered. When he walked into the hall, Snape whispered something to his fellow Slytherins, and they all laughed uproariously. 

"Ready to be buggered, Lupin?"

"What's your greatest fear, Lupin? Oh no, wait, I already know!"

"Did you have your wand looked at, Lupin?"

"Hey Lupin, seen any boggarts lately?"

"Let 'em talk," Lily took pity on him when he sat down next to her, cheeks burning, "who knows what they'd have done when they were as stoned as you were." Remus moaned.

"I still can't believe I riddikulused Dorkham…" Sirius choked on his tea and coughed three minutes before he was able to speak.

"You can't?" he grinned. "Neither can I, for that matter. I thought I'd _die_ when you kept repeating it…" Several other Gryffindors laughed as well.

"Come on, Remus," Emily said, "be glad they pay attention to you."

"Oh, I feel so flattered!"

"Well in any case they're not used to you clowning around. If you look at Sirius…he needs to cut somebody's head off before they talk about it."

"Hey! I resent that!" yelled Sirius.

"If only it hadn't been Dorkham…" Remus groaned. "Any other teacher would've laughed about it, he took twenty points!" James frowned.

"Stop complaining, Moony. You win us far more points that you cost. Sirius and I alone have been penalised for at least a hundred points this year."

"You have?" Emily shrieked. Sirius poured himself another cup of tea.

"At least," he said airily. "And that's without counting the points old Dork's probably going to take when I tell him how much I detest his sense for personal hygiene."

"_Sirius_!" howled Emily. "I wanted to win the House Cup this year!" The boy smiled beatifically.

"Keep your shirt on, Emmy. I'll win those points back by doing something incredibly heroic. Everybody knows Dumbledore rewards heroics with extra points." The girl eyed him with scepticism so thick her face looked like a mask.

"You will do something heroic. You."

"Yes. Me."

"Really. What will you do then? And don't give me any 'save a drowning Slytherin' because everybody'll know that you pushed him in first." Sirius sighed.

"You lack of trust in me is wounding. And so, if you'll forgive me, is your imagination. I'd never save a drowning Slytherin. _Never_. No, I'd do something truly heroic, something world-improving, wonderful, Grand Deed-like something." He took a sip of tea and sat there with his eyes closed, smiling blissfully with good intentions.

"Yes?" James asked. Opening his eyes, Sirius saw about seven expecting faces turned towards him.

"What, yes?"

"And what may this world-improving, wonderful, Grand Deed-like act be?"

"How should I know? It's not as if I can plan Grand Deeds in advance, you know." Emily threw her hands up.

"In other words, you're full of shit again."

"I'm not!"

"You are so too! You're _never_ serious."

"I am _always_ Sirius. You just don't know how to appreciate me."

As Emily began a lengthy discussion about why precisely she should appreciate Sirius if he were as unappreciatable as was humanly possible, perhaps with the one exception of Dorkham himself, James patted Remus on the shoulder.

"Cheer up," he said. "Dork's got no reason to pick on you. You insulted him," he grinned, "he took twenty points, case's closed." His friend gloomily scrambled his already scrambled eggs.

"It's not me I'm worried about," he said softly. "It's Snape. He won't stop hinting until someone finds out now. I'm so stupid! Trying to dispel Dorkham! As a boggart no less! As if I don't know any things worse."

"I'm sure it'll turn out fine. Ah, there's the mail."

James got a letter from home, Lily a message from her sister. It was a small piece of paper, not parchment, and dangled awkwardly from her owl's leg in a small square envelope. Lily smiled, but there was a sadness in it that only James noticed.

"Petunia still doesn't like owl post?"

"No. Not really."

"What's she want?" Lily opened the envelope, read through the note and hmph-ed.

"She wants a magically enlarged handbag. She's such a silly muggle, really. A handbag! I could magically enlarge her trouser pockets, but no, she wants a handbag, because that doesn't draw unwanted attention." 

"Why'd she write you? She could've asked, couldn't she?" Lily shrugged.

"We're not really on speaking terms, you know." She looked up as someone let out a yelp, then grinned when she saw Sirius trying to remove a folded parchment from Render's leg. Whenever his fingers came within biting range, the owl attacked his hand, and already the table cloth and the letter were smudged red with blood. 

"Why don't you just charm him?"

"He'd damage my wand. Stop it, you stupid piece of fowl! You're supposed to _bring_ me letters, not keep them so I can't read them!"

"Kee!" the owl disagreed, and shook his wings, eying Sirius's fingers with appetite.

"O for God's sake. _Pacify!_" Render's vivid eyes glazed over and blinked close, enabling Sirius to snatch his letter and, for once, caress his savage pet over the head.

"Good. Now, give James the letter and let me heal your fingers. You're bleeding all over the place."

"But am I not taking it with manly valour?" Lily snorted; Emily echoed her.

"I fall down at your feet in adoration." the latter grumbled. "I'll call Dumbledore and have him give points right away."

"Pest," Sirius muttered, and flicked his fingers in her face. She gave a small scream as several blood drops landed on her nose.

"_Sirius_!" 

"I'm so popular…" Sirius mused, while Emily clasped her hands around his neck in a straightforward attempt to strangle him. "Girls shout my name all day…heal me…wrap their hands around my neck…arrrrg…"

"Shall I read your letter for you?" James asked politely. "It's from Hagrid. I wonder how he'd gotten it attached to Render…"

"Animal…magnetism…" Sirius choked. With Lily holding his hands, he couldn't defend himself against Emily's offensive actions, and he was beginning to grow purple in the face.

"Possibly," James said thoughtfully. "though still unlikely. Let's see, he…o damn…"

"What?" Remus asked. He ripped the letter out of James's hands, read it and slammed his fist down on the table. "NO! No, damn it! That's not fair!"

"What is it?" Lily asked anxiously, and Sirius stretched out his hand as well.

"Let me read it!"

"The unicorn died," James summarised softly for Lily. "One of the Trotters Remus told us about died as well. He's found a few other animals, and they're all ill."

"But the unicorn…" Remus cast his eyes down. _The unicorn…_

"We'd better go visit him this afternoon," Sirius said quietly. Emily had released him. She sat down again, gazing mournfully at the letter. "He'll be upset. He'll need our help." The others nodded. They were a quiet group as they made their way to Potions.

This morning they were expected to concoct a truth serum and test it out as well. Dorkham had, with obvious relish, paired those Slytherins up with the Gryffindors they hated most, and vice versa. The whole class was horrified with the idea that they were to spill their inmost secrets to those whom they least trusted them to.

"And no meddlin' up either," the old man warned. "I wanner hear everyone answer _any_ question posed to him or her, _any_ question at all. I myself will ask some as well," even more horrified looks, "And I'll _know_ when ye're be lyin' to me, so do the best ye can." This last part he said with a contemptuous sneer, as if he expected them to prepare a vegetable soup at best. Some pupils squared their jaws in reaction, but most simply gave a mental shrug and set to work. Dorkham rarely gave any praise, so trying your best wasn't really worth it. Nevertheless they all paid close attention to the ingredients list, knowing that a small mistake could have them raving in the infirmary for hours—sixth year Potions classes may be unpleasant, but they were not without interest or danger. Although, Sirius thought, the danger lay with the teacher, and not with the potions. Of course he was paired up with Snape. 

The combination James-Snape was bad, because they loathed each other and could hardly look at each other without vomiting, but at least their fight remained verbal, most of the time. The Sirius-Snape combi, however, tended to produce an explosive, both being well-educated in sarcasm while being quite hot-headed, as well as hating each other with a vengeance. Before the accident last year, Snape and Sirius simply detested each other. Ever after it had happened, they despised each other so absolutely that whenever they were in the same room their hands crept to their wands and some kind of cheap excuse was invented to attack the other one. Dorkham delighted in pairing them up. It gave him a cheap excuse to take points from both Houses.

            "Tell me, Black," Snape smoothly opened his attack, "how's your lapdog doing after yesterday's fiasco? Still wondering why his wand wasn't working?"

"_His_ wand works better than yours," Sirius shot back without looking up, and added three drops of lemon juice to the potion. Snape clacked his tongue.

"Solving your problems with ambiguous sexually tinted interpretations again, Black? Hand me the ginger roots."

"Get them yourself." 

"You're closer to them."

"Then walk around the table." He chopped a handful of mugwort to small pieces, narrowly missing his fingers. Snape waited a few seconds, then got the ginger root himself.

"You know, Snape, every time I see you walk I wonder why I haven't beaten you into a wheelchair yet."

"Because you're a cowardly git who wouldn't be able to touch me if you tried." Sirius smiled nastily.

"Would you care to try me out?" Snape sneered back, and waved his hand, encompassing the whole classroom and the skulking creature between the cauldrons that was their teacher.

"Sure, Black, go ahead. See if you can managed to extract some more point out of him."

"I'm not that dumb."

"No? Somehow, you don't convince me." He cut the roots in small squares and added them to the potion.

"Really. Well you never were very bright.

'Let simmer for three minutes, then add the mugwort."

"Black, compared with you, I shine like a beacon in the dark when it comes to brightness."

"I'll have an ordinary lamp anytime, thanks. Looks better, smells better, and brings warmth to my life as well as light." He looked up, dark eyes shooting daggers, which were shot right back at him by even darker eyes. "Unlike you. You only bring me misery."

"Another task well-done," Snape said, with pleasure. Sirius's upper lip curled up, revealing his even teeth, that could look positively canine when he wanted them to.

"What a great life you must have, existing solely to make mine miserable."

"I cannot imagine a better way to spend my days."

"That explains your lack of friends."

"What on earth do _you_ know about _my_ friends, Black?" Snape growled. The other boy grinned.

"Very little as of yet, Snape my man, but after you take a good swallow of that potion I'll be sure to ask." Snape scowled.

"I'm sure that my secrets can do _me_ a lot less harm than the secrets you keep _you_," he said threateningly. Sirius's grin faded. Snape's grew. He leaned over the table and whispered, 

"But rest assured, Black. There's someone who's even more scared than you are. What, do you imagine, is the general reaction of the people in this classroom when your precious Moony starts spilling his well-guarded secret? Cress Dominus is a moron, but he'll ask about Lupin's secrets, you can be sure of that. Dumbledore might have sworn me to secrecy, but things can always come out—especially during potions. Right?" 

The other boy hadn't been listening to a word he'd been saying, not after Snape mentioned Remus.

_God!_ he thought, and searched for his friend. He noticed him staring at the cauldron he shared with Cress Dominus, looking so pale he was almost translucent. _Remus! I'd forgotten all about it! All I thought about was us being animagi, but Moony…_

At that moment his friend looked up, not at him but at someone else, and following the direction of his gaze, he saw James mouthing something. Remus blinked his eyes. For one moment he grew even paler, then he nodded quickly.

"Wondering how he can get out of it, huh?" Snape smirked. He tapped his knife against the edge of the cauldron.

"Potion's ready for drinking. Shall I do the honours or will you?" Briefly distracted, Sirius missed Lupin's next action.

"What? Oh, you first. I've no intention of drinking any of it if it kills you." Snape barked a mirthless laugh.

"No way, Black. We drink at the same time, or not at all. In which case we'll both look like idiots." He filled two small glasses and plunked one of them in front of Sirius. "Although that shouldn't make a difference for you." 

Sirius growled. The other boy sneered. They both drank.

James winced as he felt the draught glide down his throat. Its taste was not particularly vile, but knowing that it could make him reveal all he'd ever kept silent made it worse than castor oil. He caught Lily's frightened face from the corner of his eye; she was drinking as well. Marjorie Mincing, her partner, had also emptied her glass and was now breathing in shallow gasps. The Slytherin boy he was paired up with himself, Keith Sujet, was eyeing him with a mixture of eagerness and fear.

"Well, Potter. Let's commence. Have you done any interesting things lately?"

"O yes, lots," James truthfully said. "I brushed my teeth this morning, something I guess you never do. I showered. I put on my clothes. I took a piss, and washed my hands afterwards. I could undoubtedly keep you entranced for hours with my morning activities, but I choose not to. What about you, Sujet? Tortured any small animals last week?"

"I don't torture animals!" the boy snapped angrily.

"No? Girls then?" Looking away, he fastened his eyes on Remus. He was only now drinking his truth serum—and what he'd put in it. James shivered.

"I chased down that gitty little speccie girl from Hufflepuff and tripped Rosy Walker during Care of Magical Creatures, and…" He clasped his hands for his mouth, stifling his flow of words, and looked as if he'd been kicked.

A few tables further on, Cress eyed Remus with malevolent glee. Remus slipped his glass into his own pocket and took a deep breath. James gave him a sympathetic nod.

"God damn you, Potter! What are your weakest points?" Unable to escape the effect of the potion, James opened his mouth.

"I can't bear tickling, and I couldn't stand losing Lily because I love her so much, and I…" He pressed his hands against his mouth, still talking, but unintelligible now. Sujet gloated.

Cress Dominus was vainly trying to stop describing just how much he loved his kid-sister, when Remus doubled over, clutched his stomach and vomited into the cauldron.

At the same moment Snape started hexing Sirius, and Sirius hit him a bloody nose. Lily punched Marjorie in the eye screaming "Pervert!", and Nicholas McNab kicked Sidh against the shins.

"I'll show you my secrets!" McNab yelled, and screamed as Sidh flung a piece of cow's liver into his face.

"…I love eating because it makes me forget my loneliness," Crabbe informed Peter while he chased him around the table, "get over here, you disgusting nit! Somehow, I'm convinced that food will accept me the way I am, and…damn it! Stand still!"

Within moments the potions class had changed into a battlefield. Between insults, threats and battle cries, people yelled out their most private thoughts at the top of their voice, cursing as they did so. 

"I am secretly in love with you, you bastard! Now stand still so I can kill you!"

"I jerk off over my collection of Wizard cards…Joan of Arc's my favourite, if I look at her I can just…"

"Shut up! Shut up! I don't want to know about your putrid fantasies!"

"Then stop asking me to reveal them!"

"_Expelliarmus_!" shouted Sirius, and Snape's wand flew through the air, straight into the cauldron into which Lupin was still chucking up his breakfast. By now he had exhausted his supply of food and was merely retching, wheezing for air in between dry heaves. Cress was shaking him like a rat, demanding to know all about his trespasses and personal weaknesses, but Remus was too busy puking his guts out to tell him.

"Let him go," James said, as soon as he had extricated himself from Sujet's fists. When the Slytherin didn't listen he looked around him, saw that Dorkham was comfortably lounging on his chair without showing the faintest desire to interfere with the pandemonium in his dungeon, and knocked Cess on the head with an Erlenmeyer. The boy sank to the ground, a lump swelling rapidly behind his ear. Remus wiped his mouth with a trembling hand. Perspiration beaded on his nose and made his hair stick to his forehead.

"You okay?" James asked. Remus shook his head. His face had now taken on a greenish tinge. 

"Come on, I'll take you to the infirmary. Dorkham's not paying attention anyway." Remus nodded weakly, and tottered after him as James cleared the way.

"I hate you, you cow-faced bitch! I hate you I hate you!" Lily's high voice shrieked behind them, making James snicker softly.

"I guess she didn't need truth serum to make that clear," he muttered, then laughed out loud when she added some personal sentiments to her statement he had never heard her use before. "Or maybe she did."

Madam Pomfrey looked up from a collection of pills and sighed when she saw James dragging the considerably worse for wear Remus into her office.

"Mister Potter," she greeted, rising from her chair and pulling Remus towards it, "Remus. What have you done this time?"

"We had potions," James said, as if that explained everything. As far as he considered, it did. Madam Pomfrey sighed again.

"And what kind of potion did he mess up and drink?" She handed Remus a handkerchief to dry his damp face, and felt his forehead. She frowned. "You're cold as ice."

"He didn't mess up the potion," James said, still potion-compelled to answer every question. "We were doing truth serums. And Moony…sorry, that's his nickname, Remus didn't want to tell everybody that he was a werewolf, so he…" He bit down on his tongue, hard, and squeaked with pain. Madam Pomfrey studied him with her eyebrows raised.

"You know," she said.

"Yes," James agreed, before taking a handful of hair and yanking on it to keep quiet. "Aaarg! Haven't you got an antidote?" Remus smiled faintly, then clenched his teeth together when another spasm bent his body double. The nurse pressed a warm, comforting hand against his forehead.

"I find it extremely useful to have you speaking the truth for a change, mister Potter. Remus, what did you consume to make you so ill? Wolfsbane?" The boy nodded. "How much?"

"A-about a spoonful," Remus whispered hoarsely. 

"I see. Wait here while I get you the antidote." She turned away from him, walked to a large cupboard against the wall and took out a flask of greenish potion. "Where's my mug?"

"It's on the chair next to the third bed to the right in the infirmary," James said dully, and moaned. "How long's this serum supposed to work anyway?"

"One to two and a half hours, depending on the amount you've taken," Madam Pomfrey said absentmindedly. She went out to get her mug, rinsed it in the sink, filled it with milk from a bottle and added two spoons of antidote.

"Here, take this. You should feel better in a few minutes." Remus murmured his thanks, drinking quickly. When he had finished, the nurse took her mug back, rinsed it out once more and put it on the sink.

"Remus?" He opened his eyes.

"Yes sir?" She smiled at the 'sir', then grew serious again.

"Don't do this again. It's bad for you. Very bad."

"With all due respect, so is the whole of Hogwarts finding out that I'm a werewolf," he countered, with unusual sharpness. Madam Pomfrey's even expression didn't waver.

"I perfectly agree, and I'll have a word with Professor Dorkham on this subject. But next time when you feel threatened, don't use wolfsbane, and certainly not as much as you did this time. Like I said, it's _bad_ for you." Remus ummed, then nodded.

"Okay, I promise."

"Good." She smiled. "Now, what time is it? Almost nine. You've missed the rest of Potions, so you can run along now—that is, if you feel up to it. You can stay for a bit, if you like." Remus shook his head.

"I feel fine." He did look a lot better.

"Very well. Oh my, there are the other ones!" Her mouth twitched into a funny lopsided smile as several other sixth years stumbled into the infirmary, some sprouting plants from their ears or noses, others with bleeding lips or burned fingers. "You were having Potions, you said? Looks more like Duelling to me!"

"Whak can I chay," Sidh Patil lisped from behind his swollen lips. "We heark 'e 'ruth, ank we didn' like ip." 

For the next two hours, Professor Flitwick and Professor Zelany from Artefacts were astonished by the openness and frankness of their pupils. Never before had the children asked either of them to explain a conundrum so often. After every "Does any of you have any questions?" a few students would open their mouth to ask what he meant by this or that, looking very unhappy and increasingly tired. Especially Zelany was thrilled by this rapt attention, and went into detailed explanations of magical artefacts that mimicked the Mimic, a box-like creature that lured unwary treasure hunters to their deaths. Everybody was glad when the potion wore off and they could stop telling the truth.

"Imagine," Sirius shivered, "having History while under the influence of truth serum. I can just picture it: Binns saying, "And, have you all written that down?" and all of us going "Whuh? What? No, of course not you old git." He'd have us copying those horrible maps of his until we were fifty!"

That afternoon Lily and the Marauders went to see Hagrid. They were half and half afraid that he'd be out hunting for infected animals, but he wasn't, and he opened the door with a large kerchief in his hand.

"Hey," he sniffled. His eyes were red-rimmed, but he seemed reasonably composed—perhaps because the other creatures needed him.

"Hey," they said back. "We thought we'd come by…"

"See how you're doing." Hagrid smiled, touched, and honked in his baby blanket. He did not, however, move to let them in.

"Tha's very consid'rate o' yeh, James, Peter," a nod to the rest. "Bu'…I can' let yer inside. Con'amination danger an' such. I couldn' even go ter the owlery this mornin'—if that crazy beast of yers hadn' insisted on molestin' me gloves I wouldn' even've bin able ter send yer a letter at all."

"It's that bad?" Lily asked. Hagrid nodded sadly.

"There's only one thing tha' s posi'ive," he said, looking as if it was the most terrible thing he'd ever witnessed, "and tha's that the virus only infects magical creatures." James frowned.

"Then why can't you go to the owlery? The owls aren't magical."

"Some o' them are," the giant man corrected him. "an' so are some o' the other pets. Even if they can' get the disease themselves, they do carry the virus and can infect other magical animals." He snirfed, and dabbed at his nose. "No risks, Dumbledore said. Good man, Dumbledore, and wise too. So I ain't takin' no risks. Can' let yer lot in. Very sorry." 

And that was it. The virus loomed over Hogwarts like a threatening thunderstorm. So far, none of the pets had gotten ill, but the Forest remained forbidden grounds for students and pets alike. There was still no cure.

Even though he wouldn't have them visiting him anymore, Hagrid faithfully kept his young friends up to date, sending Render (who didn't care about orders or limitations) with a message every few days. So far, the news was rarely positive. He found infected animals every day, and most of them died within a few days. His shed was filled with unicorns and even the odd centaur, his house had stowed sick animals on every free place. Of the seven Trotters, three had died now, and the remaining four were weak and listless. The back yard was full of small burial mounds—Hagrid having shrunken every carcass to the size of a guinea pig—and he was afraid that he'd have to take down the fence to create room for more.

All in all the Marauders felt depressed. There was nothing they could do, and that made them further depressed. Over the next two weeks Sirius vented his frustration on Snape, which cost him five points, and Snape retaliated, which cost him five points in return, because Dorkham was nothing if not consequent. James took consolation in Lily, which meant that they were making out at every opportunity and drove even Remus to violent outbursts.

("_High_ly inconsiderate…pull up your pants when I'm talking to you! Lily, fasten your bra! I'm only _hu_man, you know!…Would you please _stop_ doing that here on the sofa? I'm trying to do my _homework_ here!")

After Emily threatened to bash his head in with the nearest set of pans if he lost Gryffindor any more points, Sirius vented his frustration on Cynthia, who proved a far more effective vent than Snape. Peter, faced with this female effectiveness, went back to moping about his lack of vents, and Remus pulled into himself and lost himself in his daydreams.

It was during one of those dreams that he was called into McGonagall's office, and he was still a little distracted when he knocked on the door to her room.

"Enter." He went in, and halted when he saw Professor Dumbledore standing behind McGonagall's seat, in which she was sitting herself.

"Ah, mister Lupin. Do sit down."

_What'd I do this time?_ As he lowered himself on the chair, glancing around shiftily, Dumbledore's eyes twinkled reassuringly.

"Don't worry, Remus. That is, if there is nothing you should be worried about."

"I can never be sure," Remus said honestly, and Dumbledore grinned. McGonagall merely waited, she never smiled much.

"I've called you here—we called you here, because of certain…complications that have arisen because of your nature."

"The virus?"

"Yes. Your next Change will be in three days, isn't it?" She leaned her chin on her templed fingers. The boy nodded.

"But I don't even come near the Forest—I'm in the Shrieking Shack all night." Dumbledore smiled, but McGonagall's mouth pursed.

"That, precisely, is the problem. We know that you are not. Not always. I'm perfectly aware that you have no human recollections when you have Changed, but…you were seen in the Forest, at least three times." Remus stared at her, eyes wide with panic.

_She knows…if I've been seen, what about…but no, nobody knows they can transform themselves too…_He stole a glance at Dumbledore.

"But sir…"

"We don't blame you," the headmaster soothed. "We don't know how you got out, but since you're a particularly bright young man, I'm convinced that your wolf-part is also highly intelligent. He'll have found out a way to manipulate the Whomping Willow from the inside."

"What matters now," McGonagall took over again, "is that you _cannot_ go into the Forest this time. You see, Remus, in wolf-form, you are a magical creature as well. You might catch the virus. We can't have that."

"N-no," Remus stuttered, uncertain what to make of this conversation.

"Therefore, we see no other solution to this problem than to tether you."

"_WHAT_?" She started at his outburst.

"I mean that…"

"You can't tie me up!" Remus cried. "You can't! I'd kill myself! I'd break every bone in my body! You _know_ what happens when I can't go anywhere when I've Changed!"

"Take it easy, mister Lupin," McGonagall's voice was cool. "We will not leave you awake all night. There is a potion…"

"No." Remus said. "No. I can't…you can't tether me. You can't! Isn't there some other forest you can set me out in?" Dumbledore shook his head.

"I'm sorry, but no. In every other forest there is the possibility of a muggle enjoying a late-night stroll. We simply cannot take the risk."

"But…"

"If you'll let me finish. You will be tethered, but you won't notice. Only very recently, Professor Dorkham has invented a potion that sedates both the were and the wolf part of a werewolf—you'll be asleep all night."

"The only reason why we haven't given you this potion before," McGonagall added, "is, that when used often, it can become addictive while doing massive damage to the brain. However, for times like these, it is the perfect solution."

"Dorkham knows?" asked Remus thinly. He was gripping the side of his chair so hard the tips of his fingers were growing numb.

"He has a brother in law who's a werewolf," Dumbledore supplied lightly. "He's caused the Dorkhams some unpleasant…scandals. Valentine abhors scandals in the family. He invented the potion to keep his brother in law from biting the neighbours. He knows nothing of your particular problem, and he never will, as far as I'm concerned. There, I've even given you blackmail material."

"Albus," McGonagall sighed, and he chuckled. Remus did not laugh.

_They're going to tie me up. They're going to strap me to the bed, like…like a criminal!_

He'd been tethered a few times before, mostly when he was small, and his parents did not have a clue about what to do with their cute toddler gone feral. The first time he Changed while he was bound to the bed, he'd cracked one arm and a leg, and when he Changed back in the morning he'd bitten through a large part of his wrist in his attempts to free himself. He still sported the scars on his arm. Another time he'd snapped most of his ribs, and had lost consciousness during the night. They had to rush him to Saint Mungo's to have him saved, or he would have choked on the blood in his lungs. 

Later, his parents had simply locked him in his room with the fortified door, or let him roam free when they were in a part of the earth where no other people could be endangered. But still…the mere thought of being tethered made his heart pound in his chest with fear.

"You will be quite alright," Dumbledore promised, and McGonagall leaned over the table and said, "It's really for the best, Remus."

"The best!" the boy spat, with such vehemence that he startled her again. "That's what they always say. The best! If I'm a magical creature, I could've gotten the virus last month. I had a few…ticks…so I'm probably infected as well. I'm not ill, so why…"

"Because we simply cannot take the risk." said Dumbledore firmly. "You're right, the illness's incubation time seems to be a few days to a week, so if you're feeling fine up to now, you're most likely not infected." His glasses glittered in the light. "Be grateful for that. It's a terrible disease, for which we still haven't found a cure. But still, we cannot take the risk."

"So you'll tie me up," Remus said bitterly.

"Yes."

"What if I promise I won't go out into the Forest?"

"You don't have full consciousness during your Change. We cannot take the risk." 

Remus sat in his chair, flattened. There was nothing he could bring up, no way to persuade them to abandon their plans without betraying his friends, and even if he would have betrayed them, it would change nothing. It was true, he did have little control over his actions when he was a werewolf. More than he used to have, under the Marauders' influence, but still very little. McGonagall cleared her throat.

"When Poppy takes you to the Shack, she'll give you the potion. You will drink it, and you'll fall asleep. If everything goes according to plan, you won't even feel the pain of the Change." There was some sort of plaintive tone in her voice, as if she desperately wanted him to believe her. Remus did not look at her. Even when somebody knocked on the door, he kept staring at the ground, his shoulders drawn up, hands curled into his lap. 

"One moment," she called, and stood up. "Come on, Remus. No need to droop like that."

He snarled silently, but slid off the chair and walked towards the door.

"Oh, and Lupin?"

"Yes sir?"

"I'm not accusing you or your friends of anything…but do tell them not to try to contact you."

"Sir?" he squeaked, heart constricting again. McGonagall favoured him with a rare smile. All teachers were easily charmed by his use of 'sir', no matter whether the person addressed was male or female.

"Nothing. You may go." 

Remus opened the door. Snape was waiting on the other side, his back against the wall. As soon as he saw Remus, he sneered.

"Are they going to truss you?" he asked nastily. "Make sure the foul creature doesn't pick up any deadly diseases in the Forest?" Remus stared at him with utter disdain.

"Fuck off, Snape."

"Oh, I would, but I have a meeting with McGonagall, so I can't. So sorry, Moony. Oh, beg your pardon. _Lupin_. God, but everybody must be stupid in this castle. Even your _name_ betrays your curse. Why _did_ you choose a name like that?"

Remus did not reply. He longed to plant his fist in the other boy's stomach, but dared not, not in front of McGonagall's office. Snape's grin grew wider.

"You aren't so brave without your friends to back you up, are you?"

"I could slam you through the wall and then throw you across the Quidditch pit," Lupin snarled, pulling up his lip in a remarkable imitation of his feral side. "But you know what, Snape, you're just not worth it. You're just Not. Worth. It." He turned around and stalked away. Behind him, Snape began to laugh.

Lupin balled his fists, and kept walking.

To be continued…

Next chapter: Remus is down and angsty, some Marauders see the mirror of Erised. I should probably do something with Sirius again…ah well, I'll see.


	8. VIRUS 8

I'm back! Oman is beautiful, for those who want to know. I saw the desert, I snorkelled in the sea, I bathed in an Oasis and I petted a camel. Very nice. 

Okay, now on with the story. This is a bit of a boring chapter I'm afraid, because I need to insert some ideas that I will work out in later chapters and that don't seem important at the moment. But there are some rather cute moments of Marauder friendship and a hint of angst to come. I'm not sure if I can continue on as fast as I did before I went to Oman because I need to find a job, but I'll try to update at least once every two or three days, and more often if I can. Here is chapter 8.

8. New DaDA teacher. Wall-hangings. The mirror of Erised.

"We play against Ravenclaw three days after full moon," James said as he dropped into one of the chairs near the hearth. His hair was moist after practising in the mist for two hours. "So you can watch us play just fine."

Remus nodded listlessly from where he was curled up in an overstuffed sofa.

"It's going to be a great game," James went on without noticing. "We've figured out a few tactics they'll never best. Sirius hasn't missed a single Bludger in a week, and I've caught the Snitch seven times in a row—within ten minutes. We can't lose."

Remus was silent.

"I only hope the weather'll be a bit better next Wednesday. It's hell trying to catch the Snitch in the rain and the storm. I can't see a thing if my glasses mist over."

"Hm." Remus muttered noncommittally, and drew his knees tighter against his body. Lily, Sirius and Peter entered the common room at the same time, accompanied by Will and his sister. Their feet left wet tracks on the tiles.

"I can't believe you just did that."

"Did what?"

"Whatever it was you did to Crabbe's broom." Sirius laughed.

"Oh that. Well, he needed a good dumping anyway. At least he'll be clean now."

"If Madam Hooch finds out you'll…"

"She won't. And even if she does, she'll understand. It was a perfectly justifiable revenge for him breaking my nose last Monday. He did it on purpose, and my nose's been broken so often now I'm beginning to risk not being able to heal another time. Imagine me with a crooked nose, like Snape. I'd be forced to commit suicide."

"Dumbledore's got a crooked nose too," Peter said, but Sirius waved him away. A lanky seventh year frowned at them, and hissed.

"We're trying to concentrate here. Could you please keep it down a bit?" Will shrugged.

"Sure."

"I won't make a sound," James promised, and pushed himself to his feet. "As a matter of fact I won't even be here. I'm going to take a long hot shower and bother the mermaid in the bathroom."

"I'll join you," Sirius said enthusiastically, and went to get his towel. Peter scowled.

"You've got Cynthia. What do you need a mermaid for?" he muttered, but so softly nobody but Remus heard. A wry smile tugged at the corners of his mouth; with Peter near, it was almost impossible to wallow in self-pity. But Lily wasn't so easily distracted. She sat down on the arm of his sofa, her head held slanted.

"What's the matter, Moony?" she asked, pushing wet tendrils of hair out of her face. "You look a little depressed." He shrugged, wincing as an acute throb of fear shot through his heart again.

Tethered… 

"It's…nothing. Not really. Although it still kind of is, as well…" He managed a faint smile. "McGonagall…"

"What?" Peter asked. "What did McGonagall say?" Remus shook his head.

"Not here," he said, with a nod at the other Gryffindors. "This is Marauder business. I'll tell you upstairs…but we'd best wait for James and Sirius. They'd want to know as well." 

So they waited, and when James and Sirius returned, they all gathered in the boys' dormitory and locked the door.

"So, what's the deal?" Sirius asked. "What did she say to make you so jumpy?" Again, his friend shrugged.

"She…Dumbledore and she decided, that next moon, it would be risky for me to Change. Because I've been spotted in the Forest."

"_What_?"

"Spotted? You? And what about _us_?"

"Who told on us?! I'll kill him!" Lily sniffed.

"Don't be idiots. It's quite obvious who saw you, really." Remus nodded.

"Hagrid. He's the only one who'd walk in the Forest at night. Do you remember that one time when I went wild? You almost couldn't stop me—or so you said." James nodded, and paled a little.

"You scented him. You smelled Hagrid. God, you could've…"

"Killed him. Yes." He drew his knees up and leaned his chin on them. "I know. But that doesn't matter now. What does, is that he saw me. Not us, me. But that's bad enough. They know I can get out—not how, but they know that I can. The good news is that they don't care much about me running wild, because I can't do much harm there, but now, with the virus… now they've decided that they won't run the risk that I might get out next moon, and go to the Forest…so they're going to tie me to the bed."

"What!" Sirius exclaimed. "But…they can't do that! You'd kill yourself!" Remus rubbed his forehead against his knees.

"That's what I told them. But they wouldn't listen. They said they got a potion that will sedate both me and the wolf, and that I won't be aware of Changing, or of being tethered, but…" By now he was curled up so tightly he could have fitted in his own trunk.

"I'm…I'm scared…" he whispered thinly. "You probably think I'm overreacting, but every time I was tied up I woke up with broken bones, and if this potion doesn't work as well as they say it does…"

"We don't think you're overreacting at all," James said firmly, while Lily wrapped her arms around her friend's shoulders. They were all a little stunned, not by what Remus had said, but by the way he was acting. Of all of them, he was the most unflappable; to see him so afraid made them all feel anxious. "Bearing the Change is one thing, wondering if you'll wake up with your arms and legs intact is quite another."

"We'll come and set you free!" Sirius added. Remus shook his head.

"You can't. I'd bite you. And I really shouldn't go into the Forest. I really can get this disease, you know. And you can't set me free once I'm asleep, if I do fall asleep, because they'd notice in the morning. Besides, if I do sleep, I won't notice I'm bound anyway." He sighed.

"Then we'll hold vigil!" James said. He placed his hands on Remus's knees, pushing them down and forcing him to uncurl. "We'll wait until you've gone to sleep, just so you know we're near, and we'll talk to you until you feel you begin to Change. Then we'll stand out of smelling range, and hold watch. Just so you know you're not alone. Okay?" Sirius nodded.

"Great! That's what we'll do. Right, Peter?" 

"Right. We won't let you down. Even if we can't help you, at least you'll know that we're on the lookout for you."

Remus flushed. His chest constricted again, but this time it was with happiness.

"You would?" he asked hoarsely. Sirius smirked.

"Of course we would, you stupid git. Do you really think we'd expose you to the whims of power-hungry adults all on your own? We'll be there, and we'll stay until you sleep. And a bit after that as well, to make sure you'll be alright. And if they hurt you, I'll bite a piece out of their calves!" Lupin glowed, and both Peter and Lily studied it with awe. He was still blushing a bit, but his eyes were beaming.

"Thanks," he said, softly, but heartfelt. "It'd be…it'd make such a difference…

'Aw hell, stop looking at me like that, you're making me cry!" He made a great show of wiping his eyes, and they all laughed, and overlooked the fact that Remus did blink quite often a few minutes, and that his nose had gotten a little red. Emotion was something they were all delicate about, especially when it concerned tears.

Even though the Marauders' presence would not make an actual difference to what was going to happen, Remus no longer felt afraid, and he could stop thinking about his next Change. Which, he found out the next morning, was just as well.

During breakfast, Dumbledore tapped his coffee mug to ask for attention, and informed his students that as of today, Defence Against the Dark Arts was on the tutorial again.

"We have sent owls to every imaginable teacher for the job," he said, "without getting a single reply. Therefore I have decided to take this class myself. I know a bit of Defence," soft tittering among the staff and the students, "enough to make sure that you won't lag behind. This means that the first year Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors, the fourth year Slytherins, Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs, the sixth year Slytherins and Gryffindors and the seventh year Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs are expected in class at the appropriate times. Thank you."

Rumours buzzed up like so many bees, and for the rest of breakfast time, all students were talking animatedly.

"Dumbledore for DADA!" Peter said. "That'd make a change! We might actually learn something." Lily nodded.

"He might actually have met a real vampire! He might try to get one for us!"

"Great." muttered James, who'd had a small disagreement with a vampire when he was twelve.

"Or a Succubus!" Sirius drooled. Emily beat him on the head with her tea spoon. "Outch! What's wrong with me wanting to meet a Succubus?"

"You're a lecher," she said. "All you think about is sex."

"What's wrong with that?"

"It's boring." Sirius clasped his hands to his chest.

"No!" he wailed. "You find me boring?"

"Indefinitely," Emily said.

"Oh. Well, that's too bad for you then, isn't it? What d'you gather Succubi are called? Lilith, all of them?"

"Spare me," sighed Emily, and finished her cup of tea.

That was how they came to sit in the dusty room with their quills ready and a fresh roll of parchment in front of them, waiting for Dumbledore to flood them with his wisdom. Even the Slytherins displayed some excitement. Some of them, or their parents, thought Dumbledore a fool for allowing muggle-born at Hogwarts, but the old wizard's presence, experience and charm were so convincing, that few disliked being taught by him. 

When he came bustling in, white-and-ginger beard flowing after him like an exotic scarf, they all sat up straighter with expectation.

"Well good afternoon!" Dumbledore beamed, and placed a great amount of books on his desk. "Undoubtedly you're all wondering on which subject I'll concentrate today, after so many hours of fun and freedom. I don't expect you to have finished the course on your own, although I do hope you've all made the effort to read chapter three and four…oh. I see. Well, that will be your homework, then. Chapter three on Martilots, Boggart families and other shape changers, chapter four on Water monsters and how to treat them." Some of the students, including Lily and Sidh Patil, smiled. The others looked sour. Dumbledore patted the books in front of him.

"As for your assignment for next week, I want you to choose a topic from the list I'll presently hand out, and write a scroll-length essay on your topic." The sour looks now turned horrified. "I have reserved these books from the library for your convenience; you will find them on the ledge marked 'DADA'. Some of these books come from the Restricted Section, so do place them back on the ledge and do not hand them in.

'Here, by the way, is the list. Make sure to put your name in front of the topic you've chosen. I hate monotony, so I don't want two people writing the same essay. One scroll, or twenty inches. And no giant writing, mister Alison!

'Next week we'll treat mermaids. Some Gryffindors may already be familiar with this particular and charming water creature," a twinkle, and an angry mutter from the Slytherins, "but that can't be helped. Now, since we have done no preparations for today, I suggest you all catch up on your reading material or start on your essay.

'Oh, and I'd like to remind you that the Quidditch match between Ravenclaw and Gryffindor is in five days time. A great event as that may be, don't let it keep you from writing your essay!"

And thus the first Defence Against the Dark Arts class began. It was a lot less interesting than they'd hoped, but at least Dumbledore had given them the opportunity to catch up, which was more than any other teacher would have done.

"I bet he didn't have a creature in stock," Peter muttered, as he flipped the pages of his book. "Grindylows. Nasty stuff. Did you know you can inflate them if you use the right spell?"

"Hm. I like them. But I'd like to write about something more…attractive. Why haven't we got a mermaid topic?"

"He's not that crazy. He knows it'd mean we won't be able to have a bath in a week because of all the people ogling the mermaid in the bathroom," James said, running his quill along the subject list. "But Martilots are kinda nice too. They know great curses. I think I'll take the Martilot essay." He wrote down his name in front of the title, and it disappeared. Remus chuckled.

"Where can you buy your essay? I'd like to buy mine there too."

"Come on, you write like Sirius talks. Endlessly, smoothly and…"

"And?" Sirius asked patiently.

"Lecherously," Emily Deveraux, who had overheard her namesake's conversation with Sirius this morning, supplied from a few seats away.

"I don't write lecherously," Remus protested. "Let's see. I think I'll have the status effects of the Siren's call, with onions and pepperoni." Sirius grinned, and pulled the list towards him.

"Onions and pepperoni, huh? Hey! Sunderings! I know how to fight those! I'll take this one."

"Another holiday in France?"

"Sunderings don't appear in France. They're Welsh. My dad sprouted gills for a whole week. I thought it was great, and I wanted to get hexed as well, but my dad…well, he couldn't imagine why I'd think that funny." For a moment his smile faltered, then he shrugged and wrote down his name beside 'Describe the attack of the Sundering, its spells and the possible counter spells'. Peter chose his own subject, and Lily was already busily scribbling on hers. After a while the talking grew softer, before stopping altogether. For forty-five minutes, Dumbledore oversaw a perfectly quiet, in reading and writing engrossed class. He smiled contentedly. The merits of dumping an awful load of homework on a unsuspecting class were almost as great as teaching Defence. He was truly looking forward to future classes.

That afternoon the rain was so bad that even Liza was forced to cancel practice, which left the Marauders with nothing to do but homework. Lily and, to everyone's amazement Sirius were so captured by their essay that they replied in one-syllable words only, and James, Peter and Remus, who were less interested in their essays, were yawning with boredom.

"What shall we do?" James wondered for the umpteenth time, and his friends shrugged.

"We could play Exploding Snap."

"Or chess."

"Or strip poker." A hopeful look at Sirius, but his head remained bowed over his book, and Remus sighed. "Never mind. I don't want to play strip poker. Not that I would want to play strip poker if Sirius wasn't BEING AN UTTER BORE, but…" Sirius did not reply.

"I don't want to play Exploding Snap either. Nor chess. What time is it?"

"Four."

"What a drag. Two and a half hours till supper. Weather I wouldn't even sent Snape out in. No diversion but homework, which I really don't want to do right now. What can we possibly do to pass the time?"

"We could explore the castle?" Peter suggested. "Where's the Map? Last rumour I heard was that there was a whole room full of blast ended screwts, and I'm dying to see one."

"Your desires are so easily fulfilled, Peter," James teased, but he produced the Marauder's Map from one of his pockets and spread it on the arm of his seat. The other two gathered around him, and for a few moments they amused themselves looking at the named dots and wondering what they were doing.

"That's Effrairm Hinds. What on earth can he be doing with Amilia Fudge?" On the map, the dot called Effrairm acquired a speech bubble, which said 'smack, smack, smack.'

"Well," Remus grinned. "That explains. Lucky Amilia."

"With that utter git?"

"Well he could've done better as well, couldn't he? Her main subject of conversation is shoes! I talked to her once, for, like, twenty minutes, and she was still talking about shoes when Will saved me." James eyed him with a peculiar expression on his face. "What?"

"You just reminded me."

"Of what?"

"Julie." Remus carefully studied the map.

"Ah? And what of her?"

"I was just wondering whether things worked out, at the gig, you know. You never told us."

"No, I didn't."

"It didn't work out," Peter understood. Remus shrugged.

"She didn't like dogs. Kinda hard to make out with a girl with that in the back of your head." James shook his head.

"Remus, making out with a girl should drive those thoughts from your head, not make them stronger."

"She wouldn't go that far," Remus said with a wry smile. He held up his hands. "Stop bugging me about it. It's not as if my whole life turned useless, you know. She's just not the right person for me. I'll live."

"But you aren't even a dog! You're a wolf, and nobody ever comes near you when you are—well, apart from us, of course,"

"Peter? Shut up."

"Okay, okay! I'm just trying to help."

"I don't need help. I need a girlfriend. I need a cure for my curse. Neither being available, I'll make do with you guys. 

So. Where shall we go? Second floor? I don't think I ever saw that room over there…unless it's one of those changing rooms."

"Fine with me," James said, and Peter, chastened, muttered his agreement.

"Good," Remus decided. "Let's go."

On the second floor one of the walls in a hidden room (uncovered after persuading a gargoyle to move from its perch by offering it a chocolate frog) turned out to have a highly interesting tapestry. It covered most of the nine-foot high wall, and showed a diversity of magical creatures. Unicorns. Centaurs. Veelas. Werewolves. Trotters. Hippogriffs. Phoenixes. Griffons. Every time Remus thought he had spotted them all, one of the embroidered creatures would move and reveal yet another animal hiding behind it. James and Peter lost their interest rather quickly, and where itching to move on, but Remus felt reluctant to leave the tapestry. It was so beautiful, so _peaceful_. The werewolves were so contentedly lying next to a couple of griffons, their faded pink tongues hanging out of their maws with such ease, as if they were used to lying like this.

As if this were like it had to be.

They _were_ werewolves, not ordinary wolves or dire wolves. He could feel it, see it, almost sense it. The eyes looking back at him were savage and wild but very human at the same time, and the height and build of the wolves convinced him that they were lycanthropes. 

"You coming?"

But the light is daylight. he mused. This scene was meant to be a daylight scene. So why are they in wolf form?

"Hey Remus! Are you coming?"

_Just because they look better in wolf form than in man shape? Could be…but that's unlikely. The Veela is in human shape too, although…_ He touched one finger to the Veela's slim silk body, and she immediately grew a beak and hissed soundlessly at him. _Yes, human shape. So why are the werewolves wolves? How can they be wolves during the day? I can't. Or can I? Is it possible to turn into a wolf during the day—during any period that isn't the night of the full moon?_

"Mooooony!" He suppressed his sudden excitement. _Could it be…I need to stay here. This could just be the missing link between lycanthropy and humanity._

"I hear you. You two go along. I want to study this for a bit longer, if you don't mind."

"Mind?" James, in turn, studied him, his dark eyebrows forming _accent circumflexes_ as he took in his friend's face. "Of course we don't mind. But…"

"I just want to try something out, that's all. It won't cost us house points, or put you or me in danger. I just…"

"Want to stay here. Sure. This must be the first time you ever saw all those creatures, right?" Remus smiled at James's misunderstanding, but made no move to correct him. He nodded. James smiled. "Okay. Well, Peter and I'll just get on. Here, I'll give you the Map. If you can't find us, use the Map."

"But…"

"There's enough to investigate without having the Map as a guiding system," James waved away his hesitation. "We'll see you when you're done, okay?"

"Okay," Remus said, and waved his friends goodbye as they continued their search for adventure.  

After more than an hour, Remus still could not think of a way to become a wolf during daylight. He tried, using all his transfiguration skills, but he would not even budge. On the tapestry, the werewolves had fallen asleep, and no matter how often he poked them, they did not change into human form nor, in fact, wake up, and now he was sitting on the floor, gazing up at the animals. It was nice to be so close to them, even if he knew they were not real.

I wonder how the Trotters are doing… 

They hadn't had a letter from Hagrid in three days. He wondered whether that was a good or a bad sign.

I'll Change in two days. Two days. If someone finds the cure for the virus within two days, would they let me Change without forcing this potion on me?

_No. they wouldn't. Because they won't run any risks._

I wonder. Would McGonagall know, about Changing during the day? Or Dumbledore? He should know. He probably met them before—hell, he was the one who accepted me. He'll know…

He listened to the rain beating against the window and blinked lazily. One of the hippogriffs sat down on its haunches and began to clean the feathers of its left wing. Remus had almost fallen asleep when a grating voice whispered from the other end of the wall.

"Hey! Hey you! D'you happen to have anymore chocolate frogs with you?" Remus checked.

"No."

"Then move it," said the gargoyle with a shake of its stony wings. "I'm not into charity, you know. Gotta make a living."

"You don't live," Remus said, but he unfolded his legs and left the room anyway. A thin wall slid back into place, covering the door to the chamber, and the gargoyle hopped back to its seat.

"That's what you think, pal. Every third moon it's playtime!"

"Do I even want to know?"

"Do I even want to tell?" the gargoyle replied testily. "As if you'd understand. You, human! Ha! Now be gone. You've taken enough of my time."

"In exchange for a chocolate frog." A shrug.

"You want to return, you're welcome. Just bring more frogs. Or a mouse, if you can. I love mice, especially when they're made of chocolate."

_A gargoyle with a craving for chocolate._ Remus shook his head. The little demon opened one opal eye.

"Are you still here? What are you waiting for? I ain't gonna open that door again, you know."

"I know," Remus said.

"Bring me more chocolate and we can talk. Now, piss off, kiddo." Remus pissed off.

He was just in time for dinner. Sirius and Lily were already seated, but Peter and James hadn't arrived yet.

"It's steak!" Sirius greeted him. "Where's the others?"

"Dunno. Still exploring, I guess. How's your essay?"

"Finished."

"You're kidding me."

"Nope! It's finished! And it's pretty good too, actually. I'm very proud of it. That was the bell, right? I'm starving. We don't have to wait, do we? It's their own fault if they're late." Lily grinned.

"Loyal friend, you."

"I'm starving too," Remus confessed, and when the platter with meat passed him, he took a great piece of it, and then commenced to pile his plate with potatoes and cucumber salad. Sirius looked relieved, and followed his lead.

"So. What've you been up to while I was diligently writing away?"

"Mm. Just looking around. Found a nice tapestry with magical animals." Sirius raised his eyebrow.

"A nice tapestry with magical animals. Well _that_ sounds interesting."

"It was, to me. I also found a gargoyle with a chocolate fetish. He kicked me out when he ran out of chocolate." Lily giggled.

"Sounds like a gargoyle alright." She squeaked as someone suddenly flung his arms around her neck from behind her.

"Hi guys!"

"Oh, James! I didn't see you come in!"

"We came via an alternative road," James said pompously, and wriggled in between Remus and Lily. Peter, as always following him like a shadow, sat down on the other side. "Ah, steak!"

"We found something!" Peter whispered loudly.

"Really?" Sirius whispered back even louder. "Why are you whispering? Is it a secret?" Peter coloured. "Well don't whisper so hard, if it is."

"It isn't a secret," James said, and took a large bite. "We woor waf opem."

"What was open?" Remus asked patiently, and chuckled as James stuck out a potato-covered tongue. Emily Endale squealed with disgust. James retracted his tongue and swallowed.

"The door. Pass me the carrots, please."

"These aren't carrots. They're something else."

"They look like carrots to me."

"So have some, but I warn you, they're not carrots." They watched as James took a spoonful of orange rectangles and eyed each other warily.

"What?" asked James. Remus grinned.

"Nothing. We're just waiting what'll happen if you eat them. Just so that we'll be safe ourselves, you see."

"We found the Mirror of Erised," said Peter. Four heads turned in his direction, and nobody noticed James gingerly eating his carrot. It was perfectly alright, and tasted of nothing but carrot.

"The Mirror!" muttered Remus, and exclaimed Sirius.

"The Mirror of Erised?" Lily asked. "What's that?" Peter opened his mouth, but he was not the one to speak first.

"It's something," Sirius said with a gleam in his eyes that boded mischief and no end of trouble, "that I've been wanting to return to for the last three years."

To be continued…

Next chapter: the Marauders' desires, and Sirius Great Insight. Depressed!Sirius ahead. Maybe Remus's Change, maybe the chapter after the next. Oh! And thanks for the reviews!


	9. VIRUS 9 The Mirror of Erised

Phew, this is a pretty long chapter, and it would be longer still if I wasn't too tired to write on now. I lied. This is not the chapter of Depressed!Sirius. That will be the next chapter. Those who hate Sirius and want to see him shocked to the core, rejoice! He'll be very miserable (evil grin). Me, I love Sirius. Unfortunately for Sirius I tend to badly abuse the characters I love best—which doesn't bode well for Remus either : )

Anyway, thanks for reviewing of course! And for those impatient for the virus, don't worry. There are only a few more chapters until it strikes—I can easily say this without spoiling any plot, I mean, it was pretty obvious from the start, right? Though I still have some cards up my sleeve…

Well, enjoy!

9. The Mirror Revisited.

"At first we wanted to walk on," James said. "Thinking that an open door can hold no interesting things. But we never saw it before, the room I mean, and since the door was open anyway, we just went in to have a peak."

"And we saw the Mirror." Lily frowned.

"You all talk as if I should know what this Mirror is. I never heard of it. What is it? What's Erised mean?"

"It's 'desire' spelled backwards," Sirius explained. "And what the Mirror does, is show you your greatest desires."

"Oh?" 

They were all sitting in the otherwise deserted boys dormitory, crowding on James's bed. Peter's wand was the only source of light, and he had draped a red kerchief over the tip to give the light a cosy colour. This red-tinged semi-darkness, combined with the sound of the rain hitting the windows, created an atmosphere of secrecy and plot, which they all found highly appealing.

"You don't see yourself, in the Mirror?" She turned her head to look James in the eye, and he smiled and pressed a kiss on the top of her head.

"Oh, you do see yourself. But not always the same."

"So what did you see?" James's smile grew a little wider, and a little embarrassed too. He looked exceedingly cute, and Lily had to repress the urge to hug him tightly.

"You," he said, and then fell silent. Even in the low light she could see him blush. Her own cheeks grew hot as well.

"Me?"

"Yeah. We were kinda…married." Remus chuckled.

"Kinda married? Not all the way?"

"Oh shut up, you know what I mean."

"I do, my little lovebird, I do…"

"Really? So what did you see, then?"

"You saw the Mirror as well?" Peter asked. Remus nodded.

"Yeah, the first year I was here. When we weren't really friends yet. I used to walk by myself at night, sometimes, and one night I found the Mirror of Erised." He picked up a pillow and curled himself around it. Lily put a hand on his arm.

"If you don't want to tell us, it's okay too, Remus."

"What makes you think it's hard on me?" he asked, genuinely surprised. Peter grinned.

"You have the interesting habit of becoming very small when you feel threatened," he said, and James pulled his pillow out of Remus's grasp.

"You do," he agreed, propping the pillow behind his own back. "It's highly appealing, or so Julie told me…"

"Shut your mouth about Julie!"

"Then tell us what you saw in the Mirror of Erised and stop acting as if we're forcing it out of you. Sit up straight. Leave my pillow alone. Good boy. Now, what did you see?" Remus grumbled something.

"What?"

"I'm very uncomfortable sitting up straight. I want to sprawl." James rolled his eyes.

"Then sprawl."

"I want a pillow to curl up around."

"You're not getting my pillow. Get your own." Remus reached out his hand and barely touched the edge of his bed.

"It's too far away…"

"What. Did. You. See?" Remus pouted.

"You still need to guess? I saw me, just me, and I was as human as was humanly possible, and…" he stopped.

"And you had a girlfriend?" Sirius finished for him. His friend shot him an unfriendly look.

"Sirius. I was eleven years old. I didn't even WANT a girlfriend at that age. It was just me, un-cursed, never bitten or cured, I don't know…" he shrugged, then added softly, "and I'd never be in pain again." 

A heavy silence threatened, and he hastily said, "That was before you guys joined me every month, before you even knew that I was a werewolf. We weren't even friends yet, like I said."

"Does it really hurt so much?" Lily asked quietly. Since she never joined the Marauders, she only knew that Remus was always thin and tired after the Change, but she had never heard him scream. Remus pursed his lips, looked at his fingers wrapped around his knees.

"Yes. Yes, it does. And when I was small I had to do it all by myself, and it was even worse. But that pain wasn't what made me wish that it would stop. That was…losing myself. Stop being me, and turning into something wild and savage, something that wouldn't hesitate to bite someone's leg off. Or my own, if I'm trapped. I almost did that, once. Bit off my hand to escape from my bed…" From out of nowhere, a peal of stark fear burst in his stomach and sent him reeling, and thinking, _when they tethered me…_and he shook his head. 

"No! I'm not even going to go there!" He came to his feet, drawing himself out to his full length. 

"I was small when I looked into the Mirror," he said firmly. "I've changed in the meantime. I know now that I can't ever stop being a werewolf. So be it. The last three years have been the best of my life since I got bitten, even with the pain and the…the fear. Ever since you three learned to transform and run with me I've loved every full moon. I'm not sure I'd see the same thing if I went back now."

"Would you want to return?" Sirius asked. "To see whether your desires have changed?" Remus shrugged. 

"Why would I? I know my desires. I don't need a mirror to tell me what I want."

He whirled around as something large banged against the window.

"What's that?" Lily ran to the window and peered through it.

"It's…it's a bird, I think. An owl."

"Render!"

"Open the window!"

"Not that window! My bed'll get soaked!"

"Too bad, Peter. I won't have my owl drowning in the storm." Sirius opened the window, and was almost blown away by a gust of wind, rain and hail. Render flew into his face, then fell to the floor with a weak screech.

"Close the window!"

"Is Render okay?"

"Are _you_ okay? I think you've got a black eye starting…"

"I'm fine, Catch him!" For a few minutes they played Catch the Unwilling-To-Be-Caught-Owl, got bitten by said owl, and finally managed to trap him beneath a towel. Lily pacified him with a flick of her wand, and in the end Sirius could hold him wrapped in a towel on his lap without risking unplanned amputation.

"He's got a letter tied to his leg," he said, gingerly running his fingers along the ribbon on the owl's leg. Render opened his beak, but it was a lazy threat, and Sirius was faster anyway. "Got it. No, you can't eat that. Peter, have you got some owl treats for me?"

"Of course, Sirius. My rat _adores_ owl treats."

"We could also offer him Luncheon, of course…"

"I'll get your treats!" Peter squeaked, and scooped up his sleeping rat from his own pillow just in case. The three other Marauders, including Lily, had owls for pets (Remus, unsurprisingly, had not pet. He had tried to keep a cat for some time, but it ran away every time it saw him coming, so he'd decided he would be better without one), and Peter was grateful Will did not have a cat because of Luncheon, but still. With Render, he did not want to take any risk. Luncheon disappeared in his sock drawer.

Lily had unfolded the letter and was now squinting at the faded sentences.

"I wish he'd made the paper water proof," she complained. "I can hardly read it." James fished the scroll out of her hand.

"Let me try. It starts with 'Dear Sirius and Lily," then something illegible, then…um…"Sorry for not writing, have been very busy. Last three Trotters doing relatively fine. Roland—that's the centaur, right?—eating again and able to keep food inside. Still has a fever, though." Then there's a large blurry patch I can't read, but I think it's about the griffons, but I don't know whether they're better or not. Then he's saying something about someone working on a cure, but I can't read who."

"Dorkham, probably," Sirius said. "He's been working on it for weeks now. Although I hate to think that the man can actually do something for the good of people. Or animals, in this case. Read on."

"There isn't much, but…Oh, that's a t. "…says that he's making progress with the cure. I hope he's right—he spells it w-r-i-t-e—I'm getting pretty desperate. Hope you are all well, Hagrid."" James put the letter down. "Well, at least Dorkham's making progress now. That's more than they used to say."

"Whoop-dee-doo." Remus said listlessly. He flopped down on his own bed and hugged his pillow.

Two more days. One night. He'll never have it ready before I Change. 

Thursday passed in a flurry of activity. The first day without rain in weeks, Liza Wood begged McGonagall for a few extra hours of practice for the Team, and McGonagall miraculously gave her assent. So instead of Charms and Transfiguration the Gryffindor and Slytherin Quidditch Teams played a game which had never been more spirited, nasty and heated. The whole castle ran out to see it—including most of the teachers.

James performed a Wronski Feint that had Madam Hooch crying with pride, the Slytherin Beater Crabbe broke Sirius's nose for the second time in the same week and had to be taken to the infirmary a few seconds later because Sirius tore a piece out of his ear. Dana Penhurst, a Slytherin Chaser, was knocked off her broom through one of the hoops, holding the Quaffle in her hands, and even the Gryffindors agreed that it was the most spectacular goal they'd ever seen. Dana was carried to the infirmary by her boyfriend; Madam Hooch could not possibly tear herself away from the pitch. The injured players were substituted by spare ones, but those players (Remus fell in for Sirius and got so hyper he accidentally beat a Bludger so hard it didn't return for three minutes) did not stay in the air for long, for as soon as they were treated by Madam Pomfrey, the injured came running back to demand their proper place.

When, in the end, Professor Zelany came wondering where his students were, he took one look at the fanatic faces of both Teams, sighed, sat down on a bench and watched them play. Professor Binns probably did not even notice that they were absent; they never heard a word from him, and if they had missed one of his classes, they did not notice either. 

It was only when three players complained of dizziness and James began to squint to see not only the Snitch but also his fellow players, that Madam Hooch blew her whistle to stop the match.

"It's almost five," she said, as they looked at her. "We'll have to call it a day, I'm afraid. I won't have you fainting with hunger and fall to your deaths. Much as I regret to stop this excellent match."

"There's the Snitch!" the Slytherin Seeker shouted, and shot up to catch it.

"Big deal," James muttered. "We've stopped. It doesn't count anyway." Lily grinned, and ruffled his hair.

"Jealous?"

"Nah, just irritated. She's such a bitch."

"Now, mister Potter," Madam Hooch said with a twinkle in her hawk's eyes, "that's not the right spirit."

"I disagree," Sirius growled, cautiously rubbing his nose. It was as straight as ever, but a little swollen nevertheless. "It's exactly the right spirit. Bunch of no-good yoyos. I was hoping Crabbe'd get a better imagination after I bit a piece out of his ear, but he won't ever be a second van Gogh. Stupid git. Tried to break my nose _again_, soon as he was on his broom again. I swear I'll…" 

The rest of his words drowned in Madam Hooch's piercing whistle. They all ducked as they Bludgers came flying back. Soon all balls were back in their case, and they finally noticed how cold and tired and hungry they all were.

The house elves had been persuaded to prepare an early meal, and after that it was homework and then bed. Those who had played even gave up on homework and went to bed immediately. Peter grinned as James kept falling asleep during dinner and ended face-down in his soup.

"Don't sweat it, Prongs," he comforted his friend as he short-sightedly blinked behind his soup-covered glasses. "You played for eight hours straight. Nobody cares whether you've got leek plastered to your forehead."

"Whuh." James muttered, and sought a more comfortable position.

It had been, Remus thought as he was flipping through his Potions book, a very nice day. He hadn't thought about Changing at all, the whole day. Until now, of course, but now it was evening and he was tired enough to expect he'd sleep whether he fretted about it or not.

_One more day,_ he thought, closing his book. _Can you concoct an antidote in one day, Dorkham? Be nice to me for once?_

He shook his head. James and Sirius were snoring softly, Peter was still downstairs in the common room and Will was…wherever Will was.

_It doesn't matter. I won't be alone. Even if the potion doesn't work, I won't be alone._

He placed the book on the table beside his bed and extinguished his wand.

I'll be perfectly alright.

He lay awake for most of the night, staring wide-eyed at the faint almost-whole circle of the moon shining through the curtains, before he finally fell asleep, close to dawn.

Friday arrived with Remus looking like a ghost. 

"I will hypnotize you," Sirius offered, coaxing him into a smile. "Look into my eyes. Now repeat after me: I will not be afraid. I will not be afraid. I will not be afraid."

"I will not be afraid," Remus said obediently, and ate a strip of bacon. He was not like James, whose nerves made a vice of his stomach and who reacted with soundless gagging when facing food just before a major Quidditch match. Maybe it was the wolf's nature: _eat when you feel threatened. You may not be able to do so in the near future_. Right before and right after the Change Remus stuffed himself to bursting. Today was no exception. 

"I will not be afraid."

"Good!"

"I will not be afraid."

"Of what?" asked Sidh. He blinked as the eleventh sausage disappeared into the thin boy next to him. "Some kind of plague? Where are you putting all that, by the way? Are you hoarding or something?"

"Just hungry." Remus said, relaxing a little and spreading marmalade on a piece of toast.

"No kidding. So what're you afraid of?"

"Starvation." James said. "There's a sausage shortage on the main land. He's afraid we'll run out of sausages too."

"I will not be afraid," Remus repeated meaningfully, but he was laughing now, and a bit of colour returned to his face. "You know, if I repeat it often enough I really won't. Be afraid, that is."

"You're both mental," Sidh said, but he took an extra sausage himself. This made Peter laugh so hard he choked on his coffee, and Emily Endale took her plate and went to the other end of the table when he splattered coffee all over his scrambled eggs.

"You guys are just _too_ revolting to sit next to," she said haughtily. Which, in turn, inspired Sirius to pelt her with white beans and ended in a massive food-fight in which most of the table participated. If Emily Deveraux and a few seventh years hadn't intervened, they'd most probably all gotten detention, but as it was the only evidence of the fight was a single kipper in James's pocket that mysteriously reappeared in Snape's hair during Potions, and disturbed a melting potion. The result was a cauldron gone volcano, and a shouting potions teacher. All pupils deemed it wise to leave the dungeons before either of the two exploded.

Rejoicing in this unexpected long free afternoon, the Marauders gathered in the common room and claimed the chairs around the hearth. They had their homework and books laid out ready for studying, but had, as usual, got distracted by their own, much more important conversations. But not even Lily seemed to care. After all, they _had_ an extra hour. 

"Not that I understand why we still have potions at all," Peter mused, "since Dorkham should be busy brewing an antidote for the virus."

"Oh, I understand," Remus growled, and pawed the arm of his seat. "Dorkham doesn't care for animals. He'd much rather take points from us. Much more gratifying."

"Still upset because of those twenty points, Remus?" Lily teased. He pulled up his lip.

"The man's a bastard. He…" and then, suddenly, he grinned, and the anger left his eyes. "He has," he said slowly, "a secret I only just remembered. No, he has two. Two very interesting secrets…"

"What?" both Sirius and James grabbed their bags and searched for a quill and parchment. "What? Is it good? Can I blackmail him with it? Embarrass him in front of everybody?" Remus smiled.

"Maybe…I found it very interesting—although I didn't even really heard it when Dumbledore told me."

"Dumbledore told you?" Lily said incredulously, and Remus laughed.

"Yes, he did, and he even told me that he'd given me blackmail material."

"Okay, I'm set," James urged. "Do tell." His friend stretched his legs and folded his arms behind his head.

"Okay. Secret number two. Does any of you know Dorkham's first name?" They all shook their head.

"No…odd. McGonagall's called Minerva, and Dumbledore's Albus, and Binns's Bernard, but Dorkham…no, I've never heard anyone call him by his first name." Remus's grin grew even wider.

"It's Valentine."

"_What_?"

"Oh I do love you!" Sirius whooped, and gave him a crushing hug. "Valentine! Valentine Dorkham! Oh, the possibilities!"

"What's the second secret?" Remus looked around; the common room was filled with people, but no one seemed to be paying them any attention. Nevertheless he motioned for his friends to come a little closer.

"The second secret, unfortunately, can be used to blackmail me too, so you can't use it. But I thought you might like to know it anyway." Lily, James, Sirius and Peter regarded him as if he were their lord and master, ready to bestow his wisdom upon their souls.

"His brother in law's a werewolf."

"A werewolf!?"

"Sssh!"

"How do you know?"

"Dumbledore told me." Remus sighed. "Dorkham's the one who invented the potion they're going to give me tonight."

"Then don't drink it," Sirius said.

"I'm afraid I'll have to."

"Tell them we can restrain you…No, you…"

"Can't," Remus finished for him, "Not without telling them that you're animagi."

"This sucks."

"Yeah, it does. But nothing'll change it, so I'll just have to bear with it, won't I?"

"Yeah…" Remus wove his fingers through the air.

"Guess my desires haven't changed that much after all," he said sadly. Then he sat up, and pointed at Peter accusingly. 

"Which reminds me. You never told what you saw in the Mirror of Erised! And neither, my friend, did you!" This at Sirius, who looked as innocent as he could.

"Well you never asked, did you?"

"You did see the Mirror, didn't you?" Lily asked. Sirius nodded.

"A few years ago, when I was trying to find out how to open the door to the hidden stairway on the second floor."

"You never told me!" said James. His friend shrugged.

"Dumbledore told me not to. At the time I was in a…let me say…delicate situation. So I kept my mouth shut." Lily arched her eyebrows.

"That's rather unlike you."

"What is?"

"Doing as told." He smiled, but there was something secret about that smile.

"I occasionally do as I'm told. When it suits me."

"So?" Peter asked hopefully.

"So what?"

"What did you see? James saw him and Lily—no big surprises there. Remus saw himself un-cursed, when he looked into the Mirror in his first year. I saw…well, let's not go there. You'll all laugh at me…"

"Try us," Remus suggested, with a gentle smile. "After my own sad wish, James's smoochie desires and Sirius's undoubtedly gross future, whatever you saw can't make us laugh harder than we already did." Peter gave a hesitant nod.

"O-okay. But promise me you won't laugh."

"Promise."

"Okay. What I saw was…well, me, of course, but I wasn't small and plain anymore, and I'd just saved my whole village from some sort of disaster." He looked away, blushing, but then went on, "and my parents were standing right behind me, looking proud for a change, and cheering at me…" 

He fell silent. Sirius coughed, and for one moment James was afraid he'd say something hurtful, but when he spoke he did no such thing.

"Peter," he cleared his throat again. "Why did you think we'd laugh at you for wanting admiration?" The smaller boy shrugged.

"Because you always do."

"That's not…" He stopped. "We do, don't we." Peter nodded, then smiled slightly.

"I don't really mind, you know. I'm used to being laughed at. And you guys, at least you took the trouble of getting to know me." James grimaced.

"Come on, Peter! Don't pretend to be the odd one out. You're part of our group! You're a Marauder!"

"Named in one breath with me!" added Sirius with a grin. Remus rolled his eyes.

"The famous Sirius Black. And what, mister Black, did _you_ see? You very cunningly changed the subject, but…"

"I didn't! Peter did!"

"No more diversions!" Peter yelled. "Out with it!"

"Can't you guess?"

"_Sirius_!"

"Okay, okay! Although I still think you could've guessed…

'Ahum. When I came upon the Mirror of Erised, I gazed into it and lo and behold, what did I see?"

"You're killing me," Remus deadpanned. "With suspense, that is."

"What did you see?"

"Me, being pampered by dozens of naked virgins feeding me grapes and…" Lily laughed.

"All dozen were feeding you grapes?" Sirius held up his hands in defence. 

"Well, I was sitting on a chamber pot, and…" The rest of his words drowned in a gale of laughter.

"I don't believe you!" James chuckled. The other boy gave him a half-lidded stare.

"My desires are unfathomable, mister Prongs. Don't try to understand them."

"Right," James toed at his bag until he had it open, and fished out his half-finished essay on Martilots. "I believe you. Your utmost desires include a chamber pot. Of course." He ran his eyes over his essay, and the smile slipped away from his face.

"O damn, I thought I had an inch more!"

Remus sat up straight with an exclamation of horror.

"The Dark Arts essay? Nooo! I haven't even started on it yet…I forgot all about it. Damn! And with tonight and the match and everything—I'll never get it done in time!" Shedding his lethargy like a snake his skin, he jumped out of his char, whirlwinded around the common room in search of his bag, sprinted up the stairs to fetch a blank scroll and quilts he hadn't chewed to bits yet, and raced out of the portrait.

"He's so energetic…" Peter worded their simultaneous thoughts as they all stared, baffled, at the portrait swinging close.

"I wish I could say the same of me," James sighed. "I need to write at least four inches more, and I'll never be able to do it here."

Sirius grinned, and stretched into an even more comfortable sprawl.

"Am I glad I already finished my essay. Now I can do absolutely nothing this whole beautiful afternoon."

"I hate you."

"…And now I won't let you copy it anymore either," he added vengefully. James stuck out his tongue.

"Is yours about Martilots?"

"No."

"Then why would I want to copy it?"

"Oh, I don't know…"

"Idiot. I'd better do it now, though, before Liza drags me off to practice again."

"Your greatest fear," Sirius agreed. He grinned as James threw a pillow at him, dodged and waved. "Goodbye Prongs! Good luck!"

James left. Peter, a resigned look in his eyes, followed.

"You're done, too?" This to Lily, who, just like Sirius, had burrowed more deeply into her chair when the others left. She nodded.

"I made the best of my time yesterday evening."

"Aren't we smart?"

"Incredibly."

They were silent for a while, listening to a group of fifth years playing Kill the Beatle, and staring into the flames. Lily hummed a Weaver song under her breath and polished the toe of her leather pump with a bit of spit. Sirius studied his fingernails.

"We're also incredibly bored," he realised. She nodded. "So what shall we do?"

"You could tell me something." He yawned, but it was a calculated yawn, designed to buy him time to think.

"Like what?" Lily leaned forwards, her elbows on her knees.

"Like what you really saw in the Mirror of Erised. You didn't really see yourself surrounded by girls, did you?"

"Why not?" But he did not deny that she was right.

"Because you already have that."

"Not the grapes…" Sirius protested weakly, but then he smiled, and nodded.

"All right. You win. I didn't see pampering virgins. Hell, I was thirteen years old at the time, I didn't care much about girls then, just like Remus."

"So what did you see, then?" He hesitated. "I won't tell anyone else, if you don't want me to. Not even James—though I can't imagine why you'd want to keep anything from him." And when he still hesitated, "Come on, we didn't laugh at Peter, did we? How can your desires be any worse?" He shrugged.

"Alright then, but come sit next to me." She rolled her eyes, but acquiesced and curled her legs below her.

"I'm here. Talk. What did you see?" 

Sirius's face took on an expression that was half embarrassment, half dreamy, and despite herself she edged a little closer to him.

"I saw," he began, grimaced, then started again. "I didn't know what to expect. When I looked into the Mirror it almost scared me to death. Because I'd come all by myself, but as I looked into the Mirror I could see me standing in the middle of my friends." The embarrassment had vanished; he was smiling now, dark eyes clouded with memory.

"What I saw was me, and James, and Remus and Peter, grown up, but still the same. Still…alive. We hadn't changed at all, and nevertheless we all looked very happy and successful and rich. And we were still together, friends, and nothing would ever change that—we wouldn't lose touch after graduating from Hogwarts. We would not…be like grown-ups." He looked at her now, and smiled sardonically. "There wasn't a single girl in the Mirror—not even you. I don't think we liked each other much, back then."

Lily nodded. The first year she knew him, she had only tolerated Sirius because he'd introduced him to James and was James's friend. Only later she'd learned to appreciate him—strangely enough exactly for what he'd just shown and normally kept hidden: his unfailing sense of idealism.

"Mm. If you already _did_ know me, then. But why…"

"Didn't I tell all of you? Because I have a reputation to uphold. But most of all…" He looked down on his hands, which were square and large and bony, "It's a stupid desire. We've already changed, and I don't think it's been a bad change. You've come into our little group, and though I hated it at first, I'm glad you're here, now. I'm not sure about what Remus said, but if _I_ were to look into the Mirror now, I know that I wouldn't see the same reflection I saw three years ago." He grinned. "I might see us all eternally sixteen, but I don't think so. I don't know what I'd see." Lily patted his shoulder.

"Still, to have kept this a secret…"

"I know. Now I've said it aloud it's different, but…" Sirius sighed. "I was, I've always been so scared I'd become like my dad. He was so…so…such an _adult_. He couldn't understand me, could not imagine what made me act like I did. How wonderful it is to be young and high and crazy. He used to beat me senseless, just because…" He caught her horrified expression and hastily said, "He didn't abuse me or anything, just hit me a couple of times. But he could not understand what it was like to be young. That's why I never invited you guys to my place. Because my dad…he'd just not _understand_." He chewed his lower lip, then released it with a plop. "I sound terribly pathetic, don't I?"

"You sound just like you always do," the girl said, smiling gently. "A little bit selfish, a little bit silly, and very much like a dreamer who cannot bear to change."

"You think I'm a dreamer?" Sirius asked with genuine surprise, and she nodded.

"Of all of us, you are the one with the strongest imagination."

"I am?"

"Of course you are.

'When I daydream, I dream about Quidditch, or having sex with James" A grin, "or becoming an Auror. I imagine Peter's and James's dreams are much the same—though they might dream of being Prongs and Wormtail as well. Remus, I'd think, has enough craziness to live with without dreaming, so he probably thinks of down to earth things. You, however…"

"Am repressing some kind of childhood trauma?"

"No," Lily went on patiently, although she could tell that she'd lost his attention, "you refuse to acknowledge that there is a world after Hogwarts, and therefore you dream of being sixteen forever." Sirius bit his index finger. Lily sighed.

"You don't like me analysing you, do you?" He gave her a lopsided grin.

"No. Because I think you're wrong. But that doesn't really matter." Unfolding his legs, he rolled to his feet, held out his hand. "You can't talk as if you've seen the Mirror when you haven't. Come on."

"You want to go and find the Mirror?"

"Yes."

"Right now?"

"As soon as I've collected something I'll need, yes. D'you wanna come? It'll give us something to do—besides analysing me."

"Sure, I'll come." Lily said. "Anything to keep my mind off of yours." Sirius grinned, told her to wait for a second, sprinted up to the girls' dormitory, ignored her look as he came running back and held the portrait of the Fat Lady open for her while she climbed through.

"Do you still know where it is?" Lily asked as they walked through the halls to the great central stairway.

"Not precisely. But I'll find it, don't worry. The first time, you find it by chance. After that, all you have to do is wish you're there. After all, it's a mirror of desires."

"And you know all about desires."

"Exactly. So follow me. We know it's somewhere on the second floor."

            They searched. They found a room bustling with house elves, and closed the door. They found an uncommonly large broom closet. They found a room from which the door started to curse them as they opened it, and Sirius quickly closed it before it could somehow alert Peeves.

"We should've brought the Map," Lily muttered after the twelfth door, but Sirius shook his head.

"Doesn't work. The Mirror's inanimate, and probably enchanted as well. I never saw it on the Map—though I must say I never searched for it after seeing it that first time."

"You had your heart's desire right in front of you," Lily understood.

"Uhuh. Although the way you phrase it makes me feel as though I should be wearing daisies in my hair.

"Ssh! That door…that might just be it!" 

"It's open—I wouldn't count on it," the girl said morosely, but when Sirius pushed the door open wider and snapped his fingers in triumph, she followed him quickly.

"Gotcha," he said, satisfied. "It had to be an open door, you know. It was open when James and Peter were here as well."

Lily pushed him aside, then stood very still, just out of sight of the huge mirror that was standing on two clawed feet against the wall, staring at the words carved around the top: _Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi_. The room was ordinary and rather empty, an unused class room, judging by the desks and tables piled against the walls, but the Mirror, she felt, even if she hadn't known, was nothing ordinary at all. It was enormous, reaching almost to the ceiling, and gleamed inside its ornate golden frame. 

_Not my face…_Lily thought, reading the inscription backwards. She felt a little flutter of fear. Next to her, Sirius pushed his hands into his pockets.

"Well? Aren't you going to look?" She nodded, but did not move.

"It's not…forbidden, is it?" He shrugged. Even though his whole stance was designed to radiate ease and boredom, she could feel rather than see some kind of tension in him, as if he could hardly wait for her to look in the Mirror and go away again. Briefly, she wondered what he was up to himself.

"Would the door be open if it was?

"But you said Dumbledore told you not to mention it to anybody."

"Which I didn't," Sirius was growing impatient. "I never told a soul. James did, and Peter. I only took you here, and even if I hadn't, you'd have found it on your own. But if you're afraid…"

"I'm not," Lily said, although she was afraid, and stepped in front of the Mirror.

And saw herself.

She was pretty—prettier than she was in reality, but still herself. James was standing beside her, smiling, one arm around her waist, the other…

James's other arm was wrapped around her arms, and in her arms was a baby. She sucked in her breath with a gasp.

"What?" asked Sirius, but she waved him away without taking her eyes off the burdle in her image's arms.

_Is this my heart's desire?_ She thought incredulously, _Marrying James, having his baby? Is that all?_

But even while she was thinking, she knew that the Mirror was right. She did not want to waste her talents, wanted to get a good job, earn money and build a bit of a name, but actually all that was subject to one thing: James. The image proved that. Seeing him, and herself, and that black-haired little child, created a warm, heavy feeling in her stomach that made her want to cry with happiness and _wanting_, and when she cradled her arms against her chest, her heart almost broke because her arms were empty, and because James was not really standing next to her. Suddenly, she would have given almost anything to have James standing where Sirius was standing now.

_Yes. I want that,_ she realised with mild surprise. _I do. Because whatever else may happen, it'll be all right as long as I have James._

It was a bit frightening, finding this out, and it left her silent and subdued. At Sirius's question of what she had seen, she just shook her head. Right now, she understood why he had been so reluctant to tell his own experiences. Seeing your greatest desire was one thing; getting used to it was quite another.

"I…I'll tell you later, okay?"

"Okay." He smiled at her, sweetly and sympathetically, and suddenly she liked him so much it almost brought tears to her eyes.

Why can't you always be like that, Sirius? You can be so damn nice when you try.

"Are you finished?" She nodded, took a step back. Her arms felt empty. Now she had seen her desire, all she wanted was to get back to James and hold him. Just hold him, and make love to him. Everything to fill that emptiness in her arms.

"Do you want to have a look as well?" 

"Yeah." Taking her place, he regarded the Mirror, smiling a little, hands still in his pockets.

"And?" she couldn't keep from asking.

"Little change. You are there now, too, if that's what you wanted to hear." And then, softly, "Cynthia's there too, in the background. She's very beautiful. But she did change, and we didn't. Isn't that odd?"

"Is it?" Lily asked. He smiled faintly.

"I don't know. Maybe it isn't." he straightened up, pulled his hands out of his pockets.

"Okay. Now, for my little experiment."

"Your what?" The search for the Mirror and its image had completely drove her memory of his odd visit to the girls' dormitory out of her head—but now she could see what he'd been looking for, and found there. It was in his right hand. A small, square mirror, the kind she herself used to check her make-up or her hair, when she went out. As a matter of fact, it was her own handbag mirror; she recognised the cracked left upper corner.

"Sirius…what are you up to?" He flashed her a sunny smile.

"Nothing! Just something I wanted to try out." Rubbing the small mirror against his chest, he stared into its larger twin against the wall.

"You see, this one makes you see your desires. I know my desires by now. But if you look into the reflection of a mirror…"

A thin trickle of dread crawled down Lily's spine. 

Bad idea.

"I don't think you should experiment with an artefact like this one," she said, but the look of sweetness and understanding had long gone, and the eyes staring back at her were bright with mischief and excitement.

"Nonsense. What harm can it do? But stand back, and don't look in the Mirror while I do, got it? If anything goes wrong, I don't want you involved."

"But why?!"

A hint of madness in the boy's face made her take another step backwards, not because she was afraid of him, but because no matter what she said, he'd never let her stop him.

"Because now I know my desires, I want to know my greatest fears as well."

"But…why? Why on earth would you want to know that?" 

Sirius turned his back to the Mirror of Erised.

"So I can take precautions." 

He raised the small mirror and gazed into it, adjusting the position of his hand until he looked straight into the Mirror. 

His face turned very white.

"What do you see?" Lily asked tightly, and then a flash like lightning jumped from the Mirror to the tiny glass in Sirius's hand, and then into his eyes. The glass shattered, and Sirius screamed in pain, in terror, in denial, and began to topple.

"Sirius!" She caught his arm, tried to steady him, but he was not tottering but falling, and his limp heavy weight knocked them both to the floor.

"Sirius! _Sirius_!"

No reply. His eyes were closed (and rolled up, she noticed as she checked, for she could see nothing but the white of his eye), his face white, but slowly regaining colour, and he was breathing slowly and evenly. But the hand in which the mirror cracked was bleeding profusely, and a great many shards were lodged in his flesh. Quite possibly he had fainted with the pain, she told herself.

I've seen Render do more damage without making him flinch…it was that light, the flash from the Mirror.

"Sirius!" She shook him. "Sirius. Wake up! That's enough, you hear me! Get up!"

She froze as she heard footsteps, and dug her nails into the arm she held in her hands.

"Sirius, wake up! Please wake up!"

The footsteps grew louder, then halted just outside the door. Lily felt a terrible sense of guilt and fear, a feeling she always got when trespassing, but she did not move.

I have every right to be here. The door was open! I haven't broken the rules.

Sirius, wake up! 

But Sirius didn't move, and the door did. It opened wide, and let through a tall, thin, Merlin-like figure.

"O dear," said professor Dumbledore, as he saw the two students huddling on the ground.

"I was afraid it would be him."

To be continued…

Hmmm. Maybe I should write a slash fic. A Marauder, beach, drugs, booze, sunburn and slash fic. Or maybe not. Anybody interested? Let me know. 


	10. VIRUS 10

Okay guys, I'm sorry this is such a short chapter, but I'm really tired and it's twelve thirty, so I'm going to bed now. Ciria and Triskelion, I'm sorry it took me more than two hours, but I can't possibly type any faster : ) Thank you all for reviewing—it's so nice to have a mailbox full of them! In this chapter we get Angsty!Sirius but not really Depressed!Sirius yet, but that'll have to come in the next chapter, just as Remus's Change. Guess why the Marauders aren't in the Common room. Duh! Anyway, enjoy!

10. Sirius in trouble. The revenge of the Mirror.

"He's bleeding pretty badly, and I daren't try heal him with all that glass in his hand…" Lily chatted nervously. Dumbledore sat next to her on the floor, apparently using her as a prop for Sirius's head. He shot her an ironic look.

"His hand, miss Evans, is the least of mister Black's problems at the moment." He nodded at the Mirror.

"What has he done with it? Looked into it using another mirror? The alarms were deafening."

"A-Alarms?" Lily asked faintly.

"In my office alone. Rest assured. Nobody knows of your experiment gone awry."

"It wasn't _my_…" she began, then stopped. It did not matter that it hadn't been her idea. She was here now, and Sirius was in trouble. Lots of it, she guessed by Dumbledore's uncommon seriousness—although his eyes twinkled briefly as he looked at her.

"I know," he said. "You are not the experimenting type. At least not with things you know so little about. But then, you are no fool, and Sirius Black, for all his genius, is.

"Now, let me see. Do you happen to carry a hanky with you?"

"No sir. I already checked. I could use my rubber hair band to stop the blood flow…"

"No, no my dear. That's quite unnecessary. _Accio_ handkerchief." Taking out his wand he idly waved it about, and within seconds a clean, folded handkerchief appeared in his hand. He used it to wrap Sirius's bleeding hand, tying it loosely around his palm. "I'll take care of that later. Still hasn't woken, has he? He must have taken the full force of it."

"Of what?" asked Lily worriedly.

"Of the Mirror's defence. But I know how to wake him up—that's easy enough. I only hope…but we'll just have to find out, won't we?

"_Enervate_." 

Immediately, Sirius bolted upright, hands stretched out, stark terror twisting his face.

"The Mirror!" he screamed. "The Mirror is…Aaarh!" He pressed both hands against his eyes, smearing blood all over his cheeks and forehead. Dumbledore took him by the shoulders.

"Sirius. Listen to me. No, don't look at me. Listen. I know what you have done. And I know what happened to you. I need you to come with me to my office and wait until I find the spell that undoes the enchantment."

"W-what kind of enchantment?" both Lily and Sirius asked. The old wizard gave the girl a stern look.

"The Mirror's enchantment.

"Well now, Lily. You'd better return to Gryffindor Tower."

"But…"

"You can't help me, and dinner will be served in two hours."

"But Sirius…"

"Will be fine, in a bit." He tapped the boy on the shoulder. Implying that he was not fine now, a statement which Sirius's huddled pose confirmed. She had never seen him so quiet.

"Okay…" she said hesitantly, and came to her feet. Dumbledore nodded at her. "Sirius, do tell us when you come back." He inclined his head, hands still covering his eyes. "Right then. Are you sure…Okay. Er. Bye?"

"Good bye!" Dumbledore waved. The girl tried to find a sign of fear or anger in his face, but behind the mass of bear, moustache and hair, his expression was as friendly and even as always.

_He'll be fine,_ she thought, and walked out the door. Only as she came to the central staircase did she remember something odd. Something about Sirius. His eyes, when he woke up. They hadn't been black. They'd been silver.

"Can you stand up?" Dumbledore asked through the screaming in his head, and he nodded.

"I-I think so." His eyes hurt so much his whole face was wet with tears. Or maybe the tears had another reason, pain rarely made him cry. Against the red, red back of his eyelids he kept seeing what he had seen in the hand mirror.

His breath hitched, and he bit his tongue.

I will NOT cry in Dumbledore's  presence.

"Can you open your eyes?"

"Yes…"

"Do so." Behind the cover of his hands, he opened his eyes, and saw nothing but a red darkness. _My hands. Thank goodness, I thought I'd gone blind…_But when he took his hands away, he gasped for breath as he saw the face in front of him.

It was rotting, maggots crawling from the half-decayed nose, the eye sockets dark and empty. A single cockroach scrambled through the silver and ginger fall of hair.

"Aah…" Sirius gasped, and whimpered as two taloned hands grabbed his arms when he tried to scuffle backwards.

"Easy!" Dumbledore said, and a stream of yellow puss dribbled down his lips.

"Let me go! Get your hands off of me!"

"Sirius! Close your eyes!"

"NO!"

"Close your eyes! What you're seeing is not real! Close your eyes!"

"I can't!" One of the talons released his arm, and covered his eyes. His first reaction was to rip it away, but Dumbledore was stronger than he looked, and in the end he gave up his struggle. The hand that covered his eyes felt warm and callused, and very human.

"There," said Dumbledore softly. "I don't know what you saw, but whatever it was, it's not real. It's an enchantment, a hex, if you want. It's called the Mirror's Defence. It makes you see whatever you fear most. Do you hear me?" Sirius took a quivering breath.

"Yeah. I hear you."

"Do you _understand_ me, too? Whatever you see, it's not real."

"I understand." The pressure over his eyes disappeared. Sirius kept his eyes tightly shut. "It's not real. Okay. I can live with that."

"Can you stand up? We have to go to my office." He nodded. Stood up. And opened his eyes. The ground fell away beneath his feet, and a thousand feet drop yawned beneath him.

"Nooo!" he screamed, and flung himself forward, away from the abyss, but it was too late, and he was falling…

He screamed again when his wounded hand slammed against the floor, driving the shards deeper into his flesh. Four of his fingers were gone, and half of his palm, blood was pumping out of the stump so fast he was lying in a pool of it.

"Close your eyes, Sirius."

"M-my hand…" he panted. "My hand, it's gone!" Severed tendons trailed along his robes as he cradled his hand against his chest, and even without looking at it, he could feel the shards of glass burrowing deeper into his hand, to his wrist…

"No, it isn't! Get a hold of yourself. Close your eyes! Do _not_ open them. It's an illusion, Sirius."

"But my hand…"

"You're bleeding, and I'm sure it hurts, but it's nothing I can't heal with a simple spell. Now control yourself and quit the hysterics. You wanted to see what you fear most? Well, you're seeing it. And until you've come with me and let me take the spell off of you, you won't see anything else. Now close your eyes!" He had never heard Dumbledore speak so sharply before, not even five years ago, when James and Sirius had been caught in the middle of the Forbidden Forest, and it shook him out of his panic faster than a slap in the face would have. He closed his eyes. The world became invisible, and returned to normal. But for that image on the back of his eyelids, the reflection of the Mirror's reflection.

Professor Dumbledore took a firm grip on the elbow of his sound arm. His voice was softer when he told Sirius to let him guide him.

"And remember, whatever you see, it's NOT REAL."

It was difficult, Sirius found out, not to trust you own eyes. To disbelieve what you were seeing. Whether it was die hard curiosity or a less brave inability to keep his eyes closed he did not know, but he found himself unable to be wilfully blind. And so he looked.

And the hall crumbled around him.

And the statues burned, and fell on top of him.

And the stairs fell away as he moved his feet.

His arm dripped with a fluid that was no longer blood, because he had contracted gangrene on the way from the Mirror to Dumbledore's office. His fingers lay a flew meters behind him, severed from his hand, and the gangrene was creeping up his arm to his elbow. Beside him, Dumbledore, fell, burned, collapsed, melted away, his fingers digging into Sirius's bicep. 

As the wizard opened the door of his office, his arm was ripped out of his body, and he crumpled to the ground.

"Come in," said Dumbledore. He turned to look at the young man next to him, who was almost as tall as he was himself. "I see you have decided to keep your eyes open."

Sirius nodded. He was sweating, and his mouth was a thin bloodless line, and every once in a while he would shiver a little, but he stubbornly kept his eyes open and said, "I'd never let an illusion best me, sir." The Professor smiled (Sirius winced, and looked away).

"No, I didn't think that you would. Here, sit down. It may take a while to find the spell, it's somewhere in one of my books, but I have forgotten which one exactly." He pointed at a row of fat, dusty volumes on the long shelf at one side of the wall. "I'll have to…but first, your hand. You might want to close your eyes again."

"I'll be fine," Sirius said, holding out his hand. To Dumbledore, the kerchief wrapped around it was almost soaked with blood, to Sirius, it was streaming. His fingers were black and swollen, and the hand in which they lay was scaled and flaky. Dumbledore produced his wand, muttered something.

"_Extracato_." The shards of glass pattered down on the desk, forming a pinkish heap. Sirius buried the fingers of his whole hand in his thigh and kept silent.

"_Cura_." The cuts scabbed over, then disappeared.

"Good," said Dumbledore. "I trust you feel better now?"

Even though he felt no more pain, blood was still slushing down his fingers. Sirius nodded.

"Very well. I'll see whether I can find that spell."

He had been in this office more than once. A few times because he had done something that needed special attention of the negative kind, a few times because he had done something admirable. Then, he had liked Dumbledore's office. Now, it was hell. The large oak desk burned up in front of his eyes, taking the headmaster with it; the books grew teeth and attacked him. The high round ceiling split asunder and pelted him with debris. The beautiful bird on its perch in the corner lost all its feathers and sat languishing, its head drooping.

And Dumbledore read.

He sat with his eyes closed for a few minutes, but the image from the mirror was worse to look at than his distorted reality. So he stared at the floor, and saw it falling away, saw himself falling through all the floors of Hogwarts, and landing, broken, on the wet earth.

And Dumbledore read.

As he looked outside, the Forbidden Forest was grazed by flames, and all the animals died. One great stag managed to run out in front of the flames, but it stumbled and went down screaming. The fire reached it, and then the stag became a living torch, struggling feebly to escape. Within seconds it had completely burnt away. 

He blinked his eyes. 

The Forest was whole. Remus was standing in the Forest, his face turned up to the sun. Silver bullets tore his slim body apart, and he screamed, and screamed…

And Dumbledore read.

A Storm of blood and ashes laid waste to the world. Flood waves flushed the castle away; he could see it coming, a vast mass of water, relentless and solid as a wall. He blinked, and the Forest was back again. The sun, which had been sinking behind the horizon, exploded into a million pieces, and darkness followed like a flood.

And Dumbledore read.

The moon rose, and monsters crawled over its surface. They dropped down to earth, right into the rose garden near the Quidditch pit. Snape was standing in the middle of the monsters, pointing at Sirius and laughing, and the rest of Slytherin was standing next to him. All of them were pointing.

And still Dumbledore read on.

*

"Would you like something to eat? I'm afraid we'll miss dinner."

"No thank you."

"Tea, perhaps?"

"No. Thank you." Sirius closed his eyes. They had been sitting here for more than two hours now, and he was so exhausted he ached with it. It was very well to _know_ that what he saw was not real, but to be _convinced_ it was not real was something entirely different. His head was throbbing with the effort it took him to keep telling himself that his own eyes could not be trusted. It was getting harder not to give in. He told himself that he'd seen it all now, and that he could take it, but some visions still made his heart stutter in his chest with fear. The palms of his hands sported painful half moons from clenching his fists and digging his nails into his flesh. 

"Professor?"

"Yes?"

"You do know a way to make this stop…don't you?" Dumbledore's head rolled from his shoulders and bounced on the floor, leaving a thick trail of blood on the desk.

"Oh yes, I do. I believe it's somewhere in this book. But the Mirror of Erised is ancient, and so are these spells. Most of the text is in Latin and Dwarvish, and my Dwarvish is a bit rusty, I'm afraid."

"But you can make it stop."

"Yes." 

"And…and then?"

"What do you mean, then?" Sirius pulled up his shoulders. His eyes were huge in his pale, damp face, and they reflected Dumbledore's face like small pools of liquid silver.

"You won't…expel me?" Dumbledore's expression turned grave, angry, and…he nodded. Sirius's stomach clenched like a fist.

"No, I won't."

Oh God, he's going to send me away. He's going to send me away! 

"Please," Sirius pleaded, "Please don't expel me. Please, _please_ don't expel me. I'll do anything you want me to, just don't…" Dumbledore gently interrupted him.

"I won't, Sirius, close you eyes. I won't expel you." He sighed. "What you have done was very foolish, and if I would not have had the certainty that I had a book with a means to dispel you, it would have been very dangerous as well. As it is, well, I almost blame myself. I should have known that you'd do such a thing. I knew the Mirror would get you into trouble, the first time I found you there. Why else do you think I forbade you to talk about it? With you, it's all out of sight, out of mind, isn't it, Sirius?" The boy said nothing, only shuddered as the bird in the corner made a plaintive sound. 

"The Mirror of Erised is a curious object. The first time, you find it by accident. The second time, you find it because you want to find it. If you don't really want to find the Mirror, you will not stumble across it, not even if you pass it on your way. And so you never found it before now, when you did want to find it again."

"I wish I never had," Sirius whispered, although it was unclear whether he wished he'd never _wanted_ to find the Mirror again, or _find_ it.

"Yes, well, it's a bit late for regrets, now, isn't it?" Dumbledore said sternly, but his face was sympathetic as he looked at Sirius's slumped figure.

"I doubt it will be of much comfort to you, but I must say that I've never met anyone else who performed this experiment. And I have met a lot of people who wanted to perform it. And I doubt they would have handled it as well as you do." Sirius attempted a grin. It failed horribly.

"Yeah, well, you know me, sir. All heroics. Just lacking in the brain department."

"Do you want to tell me what you saw in the Mirror's reflection?"

"No." Another shiver passed his frame, and he had to clench his jaws together to keep his teeth from chattering.

"Very well." The Professor flipped a few pages, then suddenly pushed his half moon glasses higher on his nose.

"This is it.

'_De Speculum Desiratum_.' Of the Mirror of Desire. Crafted by…well, that's unimportant for the moment…hmm, mmm, mmm, ah, here we are. Security mechanism, the _Mirror's Defence_. Causes the subject to see all he never wanted to see, ergo, his deepest fears and nightmares. This particular hex wears off after seven years," Sirius made a desperate noise in the back of his throat, but Dumbledore held up his hand (which shrivelled to a skeletal set of digits in front of Sirius's eyes) and went on, "or by performing the following ritual.

"Let's see, I'll need another mirror, some unicorn's blood, a ray of pure sunlight and…no, you're not eighteen yet, are you?"

"No sir."

"Good. I'll be back in a second. Wait here." He stood up, knocking his chair over as he did, and quickly walked out the door. Sirius took a long and quivering breath. According to his eyes, the pages which Dumbledore had just been reading were illegibly smudged with large bloody stains, but even if they were, at least Dumbledore knew what to do. And during the aeon-lasting three minutes that the Headmaster was gone, he clung to that thought like to a lifebelt.

The ritual was short, almost disappointedly short after all he'd been put through. He had to stare unblinking into a jar with pure sunlight, have unicorn blood dripped into his eyes and say "_Finite hexate_" three times, making sure that his breath condensed the little mirror he held in his hand. After the third _finite hexate_ a sharp pain shot through his eyes, momentarily blinding him, but when he had blinked away the spots and the blood, the world came blurrily into focus.

At first he was afraid to look. Afraid to find out that the spell had not worked, and that he would living in a nightmare for the rest of his life, but the floor beneath his sneakers remained whole, the desk did not self combust, and Dumbledore sitting behind said desk, did not die or change or mutate while he was looking at him. The man's lined face spread in a smile.

"Do you feel better?" Sirius nodded soundlessly, so relieved all his muscles seemed to have turned to mush. "Your eyes are back to normal again. Although it says," a tap on the book, "that the after effects can last up to twenty-four hours after dispelling."

The bird in the corner squawked, then fell to the bottom of its perch and went up in flames. Sirius gave a small sob.

"Can I go now?" he asked hoarsely. "Can I please go, to see if they're alright?"

"To see whether who are alright?"

"My friends. James, and Remus, and Peter…I know it was only the reverse of my desires, but…I'm…It feels…"

"It feels like a prophecy." Dumbledore finished for him, and Sirius nodded.

"Of course you can go. For now. For I do want to talk to you about this little stunt of yours, mister Black." His voice softened. "Now go back to your friends. You'll find them quite in order, I suspect. Perhaps a little worried, but otherwise perfectly all right."

"Yeah, I guess." A flash of silver lit up his eyes, and he shivered. "I'll go, then." Standing up, he walked to the door, dragging his feet as he went. Before he turned the handle he stopped, and inclined his head towards his headmaster.

"Thank you. For. For helping me. And for not…expelling me."

"You are welcome." Dumbledore said. He did not add any reproach, as Sirius expected him to do, just smiled his mysterious little smile, and nodded at him. "Sleep well."

_I don't think I'll ever sleep well again_, Sirius thought as he staggered through the empty halls. It occurred to him that he didn't have a clue what time it was—the last few hours his watch had been running wild, and he had not looked at it since Dumbledore had offered him something to eat. 

_Seven fifteen. They should be in the common room._ The mere thought of climbing all those stairs filled him with dread. He was so tired he could hardly place one foot in front of the other. Nevertheless he climbed, and climbed, until he finally reached the Fat Lady's portrait and called her a "China Doll."

"Go right in love," she beamed. "You look like you could do with a good night's rest."

"Tell me something I don't know," Sirius muttered, and hauled himself through the hole. Apart from Jenny Civil and a few second and third years, the common room was empty.

_They aren't here._

His knees quite unexpectedly refused to carry him any longer, and he grabbed the back of a seat to remain standing.

They are not here! 

His eyes turned silver, and a picture of death and horror bloomed in front of him, and his lungs constricted with terror.

Where are they? Where is everybody? 

"Hey Sirius," Jenny Civil waved. "Where've you been all this time? We missed you at dinner."

"Where are James and the others?" She pouted.

"James? I wouldn't know. Out, I guess. They all disappeared after dinner, and Lily too. I thought they'd go looking for you. Are you alright? You look like hell."

"Were they alright when they left?" Sirius asked anxiously.

"Sure, why not? Why?"

"I have to find them."

"But they could be anywhere!" She called after him, but Sirius had already turned on his heel and left the common room.

To be continued…

So, next chapter Sirius goes weepy, and Remus faces his savage side. Cynthia functions as a nurse (I hope she isn't too Mary Sue-like. I try not to write her that way, but if I do, please tell me, because I'll let her die a gruesome death immediately : )


	11. VIRUS 11 Walking the Wild Side

I couldn't update last night! Fanfic.net was down! Anyway, I used the extra time to make the chapter a little longer, so I guess it's not that bad after all : ) I thank you all for the wonderful reviews (bows, bows). This is the Depressed!Sirius chapter, although I'm sure he'll do some more moping next chapter. This chapter: Remus Changes and James and Peter hold vigil—if not so long. Enjoy!

11. Taking a walk on the Wild Side

Sirius Black prowled the empty halls of the castle for more than an hour without finding a trace of his friends. Some small part of him told him that he was overreacting, and that there must be a perfectly logical reason why he couldn't find them, but his brains seemed to have turned to jell-o, and he was still too shook up from the Mirror's defence to listen to reason. All he knew was that he had to find them, make sure that they were alright. That they weren't _dying_. Sometimes, while he walked, his vision would waver, and then for one moment the world would turn to hell again. When it did, all he had to do was blink, but since his standard panic-reaction was to keep his eyes wide open, it sometimes took almost ten seconds before he could make himself blink. This shifting happened perhaps four times, but every waver gave him such a mental trashing that he was quivering on his legs when he reached the Ravenclaw common room.

Cynthia! She might know where they are…if she's alright…God, Cynthia! Be okay, please, be okay…

He started as the statue in front of the door slid aside, revealing a door, and Cindy Fizzle stepped through. Her eyes widened with surprise.

"Hey, Sirius! What are you doing here? What's kept you, Cynthia was ready to explode."

Yeah, that's right, I promised to pick her up at five… 

He tried to smile, but his face was as unresponsive as rubber.

"I got…delayed," he muttered. The girl raised her eyebrow.

"Really. Well, I hope you've got a good excuse, 'cause she was really angry. Anyway, go on in. Maybe, if you're real sweet, she'll forgive you. If she doesn't, be sure to give me a call." She grinned, then leaned forward and studied him. "Are you okay? You don't look so hot." Sirius let out a bark of laughter.

"No, I'm not. I'm on the brink of a complete mental _and_ physical breakdown, as a matter of fact, and I'd really, really appreciate it if you'd let me through, okay?" She sniffed.

"Sure thing, doll. Excuse me for being worried." Sirius shrugged, too tired to tell her he was sorry. Entering the Ravenclaw common room, he heard the statue grind back into place, and leaned his back against the wall. 

Like the Gryffindor common room, this one was moderately filled—_Hogsmead. It's Friday, most would've gone to Hogsmead—_and all heads turned around to look at him entering. Some of the students greeted him, others barely acknowledged his presence. One blonde head in the back of the room remained raised for a few seconds, making sure that he'd seen her, then bowed over a game of chess she was playing with another boy.

Sirius took a deep breath, and crossed the room to her table.

"Hey, Cynthia." She glanced up, smiled vaguely.

"Sirius. I'd expected you roughly three hours earlier." He sighed.

"I know. I'm sorry. Something…came up." His voice caught in that last sentence, and she looked at him again. Like most people with black hair and dark eyes, Sirius's complexion was a little dusky; now, he was chalk white. There were dark bruises beneath his eyes, as if was exhausted beyond belief. A bit of her annoyance left her as her nurse's instincts kicked in.

"Are you alright?" The corners of his mouth quivered.

"No, not really. Do you mind if I sit down?"

"Sure." He dropped down at her feet, resting his back against her knees. "But I'm playing chess now, so you'll just have to wait until I'm finished." The Sirius she knew would have upended the chess board and declared that the game was finished.

"Of course," Sirius murmured, and shivered. Cynthia finished her game in three minutes, using her king for a front attack on her opponent's queen. The king died bravely.

"So," she said, resting her hand on the top of his head. "What have you been doing?"

"Can we go to your room? I'd rather not…speak…here." Again a shiver. He certainly knew how to make her forget to be angry.

"Sure. Why not. My room." A few of the other boys whistled, and cheered.

"You go, Sirius!" He smiled faintly, but did not reply, and followed Cynthia as she walked to one of the doors in the left wall.

Just like Head Boys and Girls, those who were specialising in a specific training could lay claims on a private room. Cynthia had had so much profit from her own room that she could scarcely believe that she had managed the previous six years of Hogwarts without. She closed the door behind her and watched Sirius sit down on the bed, shoulders drooping, arms wrapped protectively around his chest. As she walked up to him until she stood between his spread legs, he wrapped his arms around her waist instead, and rested his head against her stomach. Feeling increasingly worried, she ran her fingers through his hair.

"What's happened to you?" she asked softly, when he shuddered again. "Why're you so quiet? I'm supposed to give you the cold shoulder, you know, not provide one to you to cry out on."

"I'm not…crying…" he replied thickly. "I'm just…" He pressed his face harder against her belly. "I've just been…a fool…a great, big, stupid fool, and it just keeps…going on…it goes on all the time, and…I'm such an _idiot_!" 

She pulled his hands away, sat down next to him.

"Take of your shoes." Without questioning, Sirius kicked off his sneakers, and cuddled up against her as she did the same. She pulled a quilt over the both of them, resting her head on one arm and laying the other on his shoulder, so she could touch his face. They were lying face to face now, only their knees and arms touching, but no closer. Apparently Cynthia had been angry indeed. 

But at least she's safe, and whole.

"What have you been doing?" she asked, stroking his brow. "Why're you so upset?" Again his face refused to produce a convincing smile. But at least his voice was steady when he said,

"I've been doing an experiment. I thought I was so smart. I thought it would be…useful to know what my greatest fears were, but it turned out that the Mirror had a defence system—you know about the Mirror of Erised, don't you?"

She pursed her lips.

"I think I've heard about it."

"Well, if you look into it, you see your greatest desires. So I thought, if you look into the Mirror using another mirror, you should see your greatest fears, right?"

"Ri-ight…" He closed his eyes.

"So that's what I did. I saw the reflection of the Mirror. I saw what I feared to see the most—not what I _feared_ most, but what I feared to _see_ most…" He opened his eyes. Cynthia's face was covered with green slime, and right where her larynx gently sloped her neck, a cut as wide as his hand oozed blood on the pillow and the sheets. 

And something inside of him, that had been holding on stubbornly all this time, simply gave way.

"Could you…could you please turn off the light?" he whimpered, and when she complied, he took her in a crushing grip and began to shake. It started with a shiver, but soon he was shaking so hard the whole bed was shaking with him.

"Sirius?" Cynthia whispered worriedly, but he only shook his head and held on tight.

"Sirius, should I go and fetch Madam Pomfrey?"

"No…just…stay here, will you? Just stay with me for a bit."

"What's wrong with your eyes? They were all white! What did you see, was it so terrible?" He did laugh, then, be it without the least of mirth.

"It was…God, Cynth, it was like…like having a nightmare…and waking up, and knowing… that you'd just woken up in yet another nightmare, and that…however often you wake up… you keep living in a nightmare…it had done something to my eyes…hexed them…and I kept seeing everything…die, or…or burn, or…and it keeps coming back…all the…time…with you, with everybody…and…"

"O Sirius…" She kissed him, and realised that he was crying; his cheek was wet with tears.

"I'm so _stupid_," he hiccupped, scrubbing his tears away. "I _know_ it's only an enchantment, but… I can't stop being scared, and to see those things, and…I'm so scared that what I did… somehow…ch-changed things…that something really bad's going to happen because of me…because it's all m-my fault…"

"But _why_ did you want to see your worst fears, then?" she wondered, and he shrugged.

"B-because it seemed…I don't know…I didn't think I'd see what I saw…I thought it'd be funny…"

"You _are_ an idiot."But she held him tightly until he stopped shaking, and stroked his hair while she soothed him. 

"And what now?" Sirius snirfed. 

"What do you mean?"

"Are you…I don't know. Is it gone, this hex?" He nodded.

"Yeah. Almost. Dumbledore dispelled me. This is just the after effects." 

"It must have been quite horrible." He was silent for a while, then nodded again.

"It was terrible. I saw you too, you know…" Another snuffle. "In the Mirror. And in its reflection. I…I couldn't bear…to see you d-dead…Cynthia…"

"I'm not dead." she said firmly, and dug in her pocket. "Here, have a hankie. Oh, sorry, did I poke you in the eye?" Sirius managed a weak chuckle.

"No, my nose." He plucked the paper tissue out of her hand, blew his nose. 

"Cynthia?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I…stay here for a bit? I really don't want to go back…into the light…and see all those things again." She kissed him.

"Stay as long as you like."

"Will you stay with me?"

"Now you're being petulant. But sure, I'll stay. If you take off your clothes. Or at least your robes, jeans and sweater. You're taking up way too much space as you are."

"Nymphomaniac." muttered Sirius, and squeaked as she squeezed his left buttock.

"It's my bed, mister. Take it or leave it. Me, I don't sleep in my clothes. I won't have you wearing anything but briefs and perhaps a T-shirt in my bed."

"Okay then." he said, and wriggled out of his clothes. But as he curled up, naked, against her, the last thing on his mind was sex.

Where are the others? Why couldn't I find them? I should know where they are, but…where are they?

*

"It will take a while before it'll take effect," Madam Pomfrey said as she handed him a small, adamantium vial. "About ten minutes, I should think. You still have about an hour before the moon should start your Change, but if I were you, I wouldn't take any risks. I can stay here with you for a while, but in half an hour I really must fasten the straps." She paused. "I'm sorry."

Remus shrugged.

"It's okay," he muttered. "As long as that stuff works I aught to be fine, right? I'll live."

"I'll pick you up as soon as it's light. You should be asleep for at least ten hours, so, yes, you will be alright." The boy drew up his knees, wrapped his arms around them.

"Are you sure it'll work?"

"Yes, I am sure. It's a very powerful potion, not exactly healthful, but highly effective. It may give you a bit of a headache in the morning, leave you a little woozy, but that should wear off soon enough."

"And it will take ten minutes before it starts to work?"

"Something like that, yes."

"Then I'll take it now. Be done with it."

"If you want, love."

Remus nodded. They were both in the Shrieking Shack, Remus sitting on the bed, clothed only in some cotton pyjama bottoms from the infirmary, and Madam Pomfrey standing next to him, looking down on him with pity in her eyes. Four thick leather straps hung down from the corners of the bed; a third strap, designed to trap the werewolf's chest, hung limply in Remus's lap. He prodded the buckle in his thigh, creating a small hole in his trousers.

"Don't do that, love. They'll tear soon enough."

"Probably," Remus said listlessly. He uncorked the vial. The liquid inside was clear, with a hint of blue, and smelled of mulberries.

This will keep me out for the rest of the night.

Already, his senses were growing sharper; he could smell the female human scent of Madam Pomfrey's body, the washing powder in her dress, the clinging stink of antiseptics. He smelled the scent of the earth and the grass outside the shack, and the animal/human scents of Prongs and Wormtail, hidden in the secret passage. To the Prongs's scent another scent was tied, the scent of flowers and red hair. Lily. She'd been unusually cuddlesome this afternoon. James undoubtedly sported hickeys, and would for the next few days. He smiled. Poor James. With Lily so uncommonly eager, he'd probably rather be somewhere else. But now Sirius was gone, James said that he wouldn't leave Remus on his own, or Peter for that matter, and both boys were grateful for that. Remus loved the scent of the stag. It reminded him of a full stomach.

"Cheers," he toasted, and quaffed the potion. It tasted bitter and vaguely sweet, but not as bad as he'd feared. Once swallowed, it created a pleasantly warm sensation in his stomach. Madam Pomfrey accepted the empty vial, dropped it in the pocket of her robes.

"What did it taste like?"

"Nothing much. Bit bitter. Sweet. Not half as bad as what you give me every month." She grinned.

"You don't like Pepper-up?"

"I hate it." He stretched out on the bed, shivering slightly. "I'll be glad when my fur grows back. I'm freezing."

"I can give you a blanket. You'll be strapped up, so you won't be able to tear it apart anyway. And even if you do, it's only a blanket. I won't have you catching your death in here."

She kneeled next to him and began to pull the leather cuffs around his wrists, making sure they would not hamper his circulation.

"Are you comfy like this? Do you think you can sleep in this position?"

"Haven't got much of a choice, do I?" A fluttering of panic had started in his belly while she clicked the cuffs closed, and he tested his strength against the leather. It creaked, but did not give way.

Okay. That's alright. I'll be asleep anyway. Right? 

Madam Pomfrey finished the straps around his ankles and his chest, then spread a blanket over him, and squeezed his shoulder.

"You'll be fine, you'll see. Morning will be here before you know it."

"I hope so…"

"Of course it will. Don't you feel sleepy already?"

"No." She checked her watch.

"Do you want me to sit with you for a while? I can stay for a few more minutes, if you like." He shook his head.

"That's okay. I can manage."

"All right." She squeezed him again, came to her feet. "Sleep well, then. I'll be here as soon as the moon's gone. Good night." 

"Good night." Remus replied, and closed his eyes until she had gone. The Wormtail scent became stronger. The next second, it had changed into Peter's.

"Hi, Remus. Are you still awake?"

"Yeah."

"Did you take the potion?" Remus rolled his eyes.

"No Peter, I'll take it later. Maybe you can take the cork off—my hands're kinda tied up at the moment."

"No need to be sarcastic." Peter pouted. "It's pretty dark in here, I can't see a damn thing."

"Sorry. I'm a bit nervous."

"Shall I call James? He's still outside. We didn't dare risk Madam Pomfrey seeing us."

"Okay…"

"I'll be right back," Peter said, sensing Remus's unwillingness to be alone, and changing into a rat once more, he vanished in the shadows. A few seconds later, both boys sneaked into the shack.

"Hi." said James, neatly folding the Invisibility cloak.

"Hi."

"She's tied you up already?"

"Yeah."

"Did she take advantage of you?" Remus smiled.

"No, she did not. What is it with you and Sirius, always thinking Poppy and I have an affair?"

"Poppy?"

"Er…Madam Pomfrey."

"You call her Poppy."

"No, I don't!"

"Only when she's washing you."

"I don't call her Poppy!" Peter grinned.

"Come on, Remus, it's nothing to be ashamed of. I'm sure all women who see you lying here, all helpless and ready for them, would…"

"Shut up! Shut up!" He made a grab for Peter's throat, but the thongs were too strong and all he gained was a sore arm. But Peter started at his sudden movement and ducked behind James, where Remus glared at him.

"You are _not_ being funny. You're not, you know!"

"Come on, Moony…"

"No! It's just not funny!" James patted his arm.

"Keep your shirt on, he's just teasing you. Relax. Are you cold? I think there's another blanket around here somewhere."

"I'm scared to death, that's why I'm cold. Nothing but a blazing fire could warm me up."

"I can take care of that."

"No. Please. Spare me." James laughed. He had sat down on the edge of the bed, and carefully tucked his friend in.

"There. My mom would've been proud of me. Do you feel anything yet? Are you sleepy yet? Shall I sing you a nursery rhyme to calm you down?" Remus rolled his eyes.

"James, if you start singing they'll tear the Shrieking shack down and exorcise it. No, I'm not sleepy. But when I do fall asleep…"

"We'll stay outside for about half an hour, make sure that you're really asleep."

"Okay…But if I Change before I fall asleep—which I really hope won't happen—don't transform. To human form, I mean. And if you come and look at me, please do it in animal shape. I'm not sure how strong this potion is, or how it works, but you know how I react to humans. I don't…I don't want to wake up, when I've Changed."

"Okay."

They were silent for a bit. James's body heat slowly filtered through the blanket, creating a small warm spot against Remus's hip, where his back touched his body, and the shivering eased a little. He began to relax.

"Sirius not back yet?" James shook his head.

"No. But if he really did something with the Mirror, and Dumbledore caught him, well, I don't expect him back before tomorrow morning."

"It's incredibly stupid of him."

"Ah, you know Sirius," Peter shrugged. "He's a moron."

"He's mental, trying to do something with the Mirror of Erised."

"I wonder what he saw."

"I hope he'll be okay."

"Yeah, me too." A pause.

"Where's Lily?" James's temperature rose briefly; Remus felt it through the blanket.

"Um. In my bed, I guess. Or maybe she's gone back to the common room." Remus chuckled.

"What on earth did she see in the Mirror to get so…so…um…"

"Horny? I don't know. She kept saying she wanted my baby. With which I'm fine, of course, but…"

"Not at sixteen."

"No."

Remus closed his eyes. _James marrying Lily. Lily having a baby. Peter being a hero. And me? Being normal? Is that what I want?_

A sudden wave of blackness rolled through his head, and he moved his hand, touched James's thigh.

"I think it's going to work. You'd better leave." The boy nodded, and as he rose, he stopped smelling of James and became…

Prey.

"You'd better leave right now." Remus said tightly. "I think I'm Changing too, now."

"Will you be alright?"

The bones in his vertebra shifted, forcing him to clench his teeth together to keep from making a sound.

"Yes, yes I'll be fine…nnn…if you leave right now. Leave, James. Peter. Leave!"

"Right." James pressed his fingers through the blanket. "Good night. We'll be out there." Then he jumped up and left through the passage. Peter halted one second to wish him luck, and Remus muttered a thanks. The next moment he was alone.

But not entirely alone. There was something else in the shack with him. Something that blew hot air down his back, something watchful and cruel. He could neither see, smell nor hear it, but he knew that it was there. It was in his own head. And it was coming out.

Remus twisted inside his bonds, trying to keep still and knowing that he would not succeed in the end.

"Not yet," he whispered to the pulling in his bones. "Not yet. Not yet, please, not yet."

Usually, the Change came like a single wrenching transformation, tearing him apart and building him up from scrap in a few minutes. The pain made him lose consciousness, and in those few seconds of unawareness the wolf sprang forward and took over. Only a sliver of humanity remained, just enough to remember what he did during the night, the following morning, when he was human again. But this time the Change came upon him slowly, gradually, bending his bones to the point of breaking until they had taken the shape of the bones of a wolf. Whimpers of pain rose in his throat and escaped lips that were thinning and stretching. He would have struggled against his bonds, but while his mind was still awake, his body seemed to have fallen asleep, and he could not even lift his eyelids to see how far the Change had gone.

He was aware, but his mind was swirling, swirling, swirling in a foggy darkness with the scent of mulberries.

The wolf opened its eyes.

"No." Remus whimpered. "No, wait, please wait, not yet, not now, not _now_, damn it! Wait till I'm sleeping, damn you, wait for a moment just wait. Wait!"

It was the first time that he looked the wolf in the face. This wolf, that Peter had so aptly dubbed Moony—a pet name, suggesting a wagging tail and a licking tongue—may be a part of him, but it was a part that was so different from his usual self that it made him nervous just thinking about it. Looking it in the face made him grow rigid with pure terror. It was huge, this wolf, easily as tall as he was himself. Its cold leathery nose pressed against his own nose, its round, luminous, inhuman eyes stared unblinkingly into his own. He could feel its hot breath clouding against his mouth as it panted with the same short breaths as he did.

"No…" Remus moaned, fighting to raise his arms and push it away, "no, I don't want you, go away, go away…"

The potion slowed his thoughts to a crawl. Even the idea to stay awake and fight spun round and round in his head without triggering a reaction: the potion suppressed even the adrenaline surging through his system. The pain had stopped now, but he did not know whether he'd completely Changed or not.

The wolf closed its jaws around his throat, growling. And then it bit, and Remus began to scream, and scream, and scream while his skull burst and his eyes popped out of his sockets. His back arched, but now it was no longer his, since the wolf had eaten him whole. He could feel it stretch and snarl, heard the furious howl as it left its maws. 

_Noooo!_ he shrieked soundlessly, _Don't fight it, don't do it, it's my body, it's MY body, damn you, you'll kill me, you'll bloody kill me STOP IT!!!_

And then his consciousness was finally swept away. The last thing he felt before everything went blissfully black was a sharp pain in his left arm, together with a soft 'pop', and he knew that he would not wake up without broken bones. 

But that wasn't that bad. Not now. Because now, the wolf had taken over, and Remus slept.

It was odd, how cold earth could be, James mused as he sat snuggled up against the side of the passage. In the summer it was warm, even when it was wet, but in the autumn and in the winter it was cold and dry and hard, and like the reverse of a hot water bottle drove all the warmth from his bones. Peter suffered no such inconveniences, lying curled up on James's  stomach. His beady eyes shone in the dim light of James's wand.

"I hope he really does fall asleep," James whispered, and the rat nodded. He caressed it absentmindedly over the head, then rubbed his hands together to warm them. Somehow, it was much easier to like Peter as a rat than as a boy. Even though he knew that Wormtail was a boy, and _Peter_ no less, he felt no qualms about stroking him, or playing with his long tail. It was the same with Sirius, when he was in Padfoot-mode. Something about the huge dog's vaguely recognisable Sirius's puppy-dog look made him want to tickle him until he rolled 

onto his back, and then simply play with him like he would play with every ordinary dog. James sighed.

_Maybe I need some help,_ he thought sardonically. _Nurse, I have this terrible affliction. I like my friends better when they're animals. I keep throwing balls at my best friend and expecting him to bring them back to me. In effect, he hits me in the face. What should I do?_

On his lap, Wormtail tensed all of a sudden, and he protectively cupped his hands over him.

"What is it?" he whispered, but then he could hear it himself. A soft sound, some kind of whimpering.

_Oh hell, Remus,_ he thought with a grimace. _What if it doesn't work? What if he remains conscious as he Changes? Damn it, Dorkham, you'd better made this potion perfect or I swear I'll ruin your life for good!_

The whimpering grew louder, even though it was muffled by earth and distance. Wormtail pressed both tiny claws against his ears and buried his head in James's sweater, but James kept listening. He always listened when Remus Changed. It strengthened his resolve to find a cure, somehow—but more than that he listened because those screams and cries told him that Remus was still alive; in pain, perhaps, but Changing and alive. And still human. At first, when they had all just learned to transform, he had been frightened of this creature he considered to be his friend. In Padfoot, in Wormtail, and undoubtedly in his own animagus form as well, bits and features of their human forms surfaced, but Moony was so totally different from Remus that it was scary. 

In the beginning both Sirius and he had been forced to knock him out a few times, simply because he was too violent to handle. There was no humanity left in Moony—as Remus had told them the night before they first manipulated the Whomping Willow to let him out of the shack.

"I'm not me when I've Changed," he had said quietly, huddled close to his pillow. "I'm something else. I rarely even remember what I do during that night, only that it leaves me bleeding, so I probably hurt myself. I might hurt you too."

"The more reason for you to get out." Sirius said firmly, and they'd gone on with their plans.

And Moony had been exhilarated to get out of the shack, so exhilarated, in fact, that they had lost him for more than an hour, and only found him back because he was barking like mad at a terrified tree nymph. The wolf knew no restrictions or control. It was, in all aspects, a wild animal, and a young one at that. James did not know whether all werewolves had paws that were too long for their bodies, or fluffy snouts and too large ears, but as far as he was concerned, Remus was a werewolf pup, not a grown one. Which made him even less reliable. One moment he would launch himself at Padfoot and roll over and over on the ground with his tongue out of his maw and his feet in the air in submission, the other moment he would snarl at them all and try to nip James's hind legs. As the wolf, Lupin always seemed deliriously happy. It was a pity that the man could not forget the pain he suffered before he turned into a wolf.

            James winced as the whimpering became a string of pleas, most of which he could not understand. Some of the words he could make out, and the clearest was 'wait.'. 

Hell, he IS Changing. He's still awake, and he's Changing. I'll kill you, Dorkham! I'll kill you if something happens to him!

He clenched his teeth together as the words turned into small yaps, then rose in volume, until he was screaming, and then howling, and then shrieking.

"Hold on, Moony," he whispered, unwittingly burying his fingers in Wormtail's fur, "Just hold on for a bit. You'll be fine. Just hold on."

And sure enough, the shriek stopped, and a heavy silence expanded in the shack and filled the passage to the Whomping Willow. James released the small soft body on his lap, tapped the rat on the head.

"It's over," he breathed. "I think he's sleeping. Let's wait for another, say, five minutes, then transform and go see him. Okay?" The rat nodded. In a terribly un-Peter-like manner it sat up on its hind paws and began to wash its fur back into place. James smiled.

You see, nurse, when they are in animal form, my friends are hygienic and polite. They are soft and warm and…man, I hope Lily's still in my bed when I come back.

He waited for another five minutes, then transformed and stood tottering on his long thin legs, waiting until his equilibrium had adjusted to his new shape, and bent his neck so Wormtail could jump on his head. He cursed soundlessly as his antlers banged against the ground; a stag was a wonderful form to have, but not the most easily adjustable. Running went great, but manoeuvring through narrow passages was a little harder. In a few minutes he had gotten used to the form he had called Prongs, though, and walked towards the shack with dainty steps.

            His vision was different as a stag, wider and a little distorted, as if his glasses had suddenly turned stronger. He also missed a lot of colours. In the darkness of the shack he stood blinking for some time, concentrating on sounds and smells rather than vision, and it relieved him to no end to hear his friend breathing, steadily and slow. Up close, he could see that he had, indeed Changed. He could also see that he was still firmly tied up—apparently they had charmed the straps to fit to the wolf's size, when he Changed. A funny quirk lifted up the corners of his mouth as he saw that the pyjama bottoms had torn on one side, but were still there, riding low on the wolf's hind legs—_well, at least Madam Pomfrey won't find him bare like the day he was born. I'm sure he'll be grateful for that._

At first sight he could detect no wounds, but Wormtail squeaked and pointed his tail at the wolf's left front paw, which indeed angled oddly to one side, and he snorted with worry before he remembered that he weren't to make a sound. Fortunately, Moony did not even stir. 

Time to go, there's nothing we can do for him now. I hope his arm isn't broken, but even if it is…Pomfrey can heal it in a few minutes.

He managed to lift the fallen blanket with his antler, and more or less positioned it over the wolf's still body—more coverage for Remus in the morning. After that, Wormtail hopped back on his head and they left the shack.

            Back near the roots of the Whomping Willow, the rat jumped to the floor and scratched something on the ground.

_Wait how long? _Prongs shrugged. He tapped his hoof three times, and nodded as the rat scratched,

_30. min?_ He nodded.

They waited. Absolutely nothing happened. 

_Sleep._ Wormtail scratched. Prongs blinked: _Yes, and what do you mean by that?_ The rat sighed.

_Doesn't even know we here. I'm cold. Let's go._ Prongs shook his head. His letters were jumpy and crooked as he drew them,

_Promised him vigil. You sleep on head._ A nudge with his nose. Wormtail sighed again, and shook his head.

They waited some more. All remained quiet.

_How long?_ Prongs flexed his great shoulders. But all was silent, and there was nothing they could do, so in the end, he nodded. The rat jumped up, ran to the knot in the Whomping Willow and froze the tree. The stag climbed out, dipped his head to the ground so the rat could climb back up, and trotted back to the castle.

To be continued…

Next chapter: Remus suffers the after effects of Dorkham's potion. Sirius has a conversation with Snape. Lily is set on having babies : )


	12. VIRUS 12

Hello again! This chapter ended a little different than I had in mind, but I think it'll work this way as well. Prepare for Lupin going slightly nuts. Oh, and by the way, for those who reacted to my slash-idea, if I write a MWPP slash fic it would be based on this story, but not part of it. And even if the boys seem to act a bit slashy towards each other, it's just boys being friends. Even if I wrote a slash fic, it wouldn't be the kind of 'oh let's all be gay' kinda fic, but more some sort of experiment after drinking way too much alcohol. I already have it in my head, but won't write it until this story's finished. It'll involve sea, beach, nasty sunburns and M and P. that's all. Enjoy chapter twelve!

12. After effects

Two things woke Remus up, sometime very early the next morning. One was the scent of maternal care (which his mind usually would have translated to the presence of Madam Pomfrey), and the dismal pain in his left arm.

"Ooww…" he groaned, more in protest of being woken than anything else, and Madam Pomfrey's soothing voice resounded in his still over-sensitive ears.

"It's alright, love. I'll get you right out."

"My arm…"

"I know, love, I'll heal it as soon as I've got these cuffs off of you." She did something at his feet, then his right arm, and then, very carefully, the left. Even that gentle movement made him wince, but a moment later she touched him with her wand, and the pain all but disappeared. 

"Thanks…" he muttered, and rolled to his side in a more comfortable position. When Madam Pomfrey shook him again, he had to drag himself from the depths of sleep all over, and moaned.

"Remus? Can you stand up? It's very cold in here, and I'd like to get you to the infirmary as soon as possible."

"Mmm." There was a smile in her voice when she said that she thought that he hadn't completely woken up yet, and he took that as permission to fall asleep once more. But apparently he had been wrong about that permission, because the next thing he knew she was pulling him to a sitting position.

"I take it that apart from that one accident with your arm, you had a good night?"

"Mmm." She caught him just before he would have fallen off the bed, shook her head and let him lean against the wall.

"I'll ask you again when you can actually hear me. Where are your socks? Here." While he slept fitfully for a few seconds, she deftly put socks and sneakers on his feet, pulled a sweater over his head and wrapped him in a heat-charmed blanket. He slept with his face pressed against her shoulder as she lifted him from the bed and forced him to stand, and began to dream while she led him out to the tunnel. If he were awake for five minutes, he thought later, it would have been much. He couldn't remember anything about the journey back. Maybe Madam Pomfrey had _wingardium leviosa'd_ him and carried him on some parts, he didn't know. All he knew was that he was tired, and that he wanted to sleep. At one part he was standing in the small room Madam Pomfrey had reserved especially for him, and the pillow was coming closer and closer, and then his face hit clean, soft cotton, and then he was asleep again.

Cynthia woke when the small bird on her desk began to sing, and sleepily reached out to silence it. As she did so, her leg moved along something large and warm lying next to her, and as she looked beside her, she saw to her surprise that Sirius was still sleeping in her bed.

_Well, naturally, the man was exhausted…_She smiled to herself. No matter how hurt, tired, or depressed men were, she had noticed during the last two years, they were _always_ capable of having sex. Always. Especially when they were young. Sirius's emotional dip had only made him more desperate. Really, it wasn't all that odd that he was still unconscious.

Nevertheless, he had never stayed before, and she wasn't sure whether she should be happy about it or not. The Ravenclaw Head Boy, Roland, would bristle if he found out.

_I'll give him until I'm dressed,_ she decided, and, grabbing some clean clothes, slipped off to the bathroom. She sang while she took a shower, gurgled with water after brushing her teeth and clicked into her room with high-heeled shoes, but Sirius was still asleep when she looked at him. She sighed. He was looking rather adorable.

_A good Medi-witch does not falter when confronted with male beauty._ Cynthia told herself, and plopped down next to him.

"Wake up, sleepy head. Time to get up." Sirius muttered something intelligible and burrowed further under the blankets. "Siriuus. I have to go away, and I'm not leaving you here on your own. Roland'd have a cow if you he caught you."

"It's Saturday," Sirius murmured without opening his eyes. "We haven't got any classes."

"Well I _do_. I promised to help Madam Pomfrey one day every week—_remember_, I told you last week, and today is one of those days. That's why I wanted to have a date last night, because this night I'll probably be busy. Remember?"

"Huh." Sirius said, and sat up, rubbing his eyes. He looked much better than last night, although some of his little breakdown still showed in the puffiness of his eyes and the hint of red in his nose. "What time is it?"

"Seven fifteen. I said I'd be with her half past seven, and I still need to eat. So if you wouldn't mind…"

"I could stay here for a bit…"

"No, Sirius. You couldn't."

"You're way older than this Roland guy, and so am I. It's your room, isn't it? What's he got to say about it?"

"He's Head Boy. And the idea about private rooms is that you're able to study in peace. Not to entertain lovers. I'm rather fond of this room, you know. I don't want to have it taken away from me. So please…"

"Alright, alright," Sirius grumbled, crawling out of bed and blindly reaching for his clothes. "I'll continue my nap in my own room." Cynthia giggled. "What?"

"Just wondering what you're planning to do with my bra." Sirius eyed the piece of silk and lace with sleepy interest.

"Oh, this is yours? Where's mine?" She plucked it out of his hand.

"Clown. No hurry up, or I'll have to mix powders and potions on an empty stomach." He caught the fastening of her bra, tugged at it playfully.

"I could…" he began, and then his eyes flashes silver, and he let go without finishing his sentence. "Never mind."

"Are you alright?"

"Fine."

"Your eyes…"

"It's okay, Cynth. Dumbledore said it might take a while to wear off." He dressed quickly, keeping his eyes firmly closed.

"I'm finished."

"Sirius…"

"I'm _fine_, Cynthia."

"What did you see?" He pushed his hands in his pockets and let his hair fall into his eyes, hiding his expression. His voice was husky as he spoke.

"You. Of course. Only you were…dead. I don't want to talk about it. I know you're alive and well. It's just as well that you woke me up. I still need to make sure about the rest."

"I could stay with you, if you want me to…" He shook his head.

"Madam Pomfrey's waiting for you. You don't want to be late." The girl sighed.

"No. No, I don't." She stroked his cheek, which was a little coarse with the first soft stubble of facial hair. "But you'll be alright by yourself?"

"Bright as a daisy, sweetums." He tapped her on the nose with his index finger. "Now let's get going."

            This early in the weekend, only one single student was sitting in the common room: a fifth year had been hounded out of bed by approaching OWLs, and was reading feverishly. He did not even look up as Sirius and Cynthia sneaked past him. The halls were cold and empty, almost as if it still were night, and they walked close together out of a sense of wariness, instinctively making as little sound as possible. Cynthia's high heels clicked loudly on the tiles.

"Why are we being so silent?" Sirius wondered aloud at one moment, causing Cynthia to jump with alarm. "It's not as if it's forbidden to walk around early in the weekends."

"Shhh!" He grinned.

"Anyway, I have to turn left here. Do I still get a kiss or is that too much to ask?" She frowned.

"You were the one who stood me up, remember?"

"Because I was fighting to stay sane in Dumbledore's office," Sirius shot back. He was still smiling, but his patience was wearing a little thin. Last night he had seen a glimpse of Cynthia which he had not liked, although at the moment, he couldn't say exactly what he had seen. Or what he had not liked.

"Oh, okay." She kissed him swiftly. "Don't do anything foolish."

"Never."

"Ri-ight!" They laughed, then, and the tense moment was gone.

"Thanks for…well, you know." Cynthia nodded.

"You were welcome. I hope you'll be completely back to normal by tonight. I'll see you at supper, I guess."

"Probably." One last smile, then she turned around and hurried off to the great hall for breakfast. Sirius took a deep breath.

"Probably," he repeated, and went to opposite way, heading for the Gryffindor dormitories.

James was there, as always burrowed beneath his blankets like a mole. _Safe_. Peter lay stretched out, as if he were afraid that his bed would be taken away from him if he didn't fill it out to the edges. _Safe_. Remus's bed was empty. _Where_…?

"Fuck." Sirius cursed aloud, which elicited a loud snore out of Will Deveraux, on the other end of the room.

Moony! I forgot all about it! Damn, that's why they were all missing, they were out with him, of course…damn it!

He cast a look at James's alarm clock. It read seven thirty-five. Too early to see whether Remus was awake yet, he'd be hardly pleased to see him this early.

"Damn it!"

"Sirius?" Will yawned. "Could you shut the hell up?"

"Whatever you want, Will my man."

"I want peace and quiet. Shut up."

"Right." For a few moments, he did not know what to do, then finally sat down on his bed.

_Might just as well catch a few winks before I face Moony. And the rest. Lily probably told them all about it._ He kicked off his shoes and jeans, crawled into his own cold bed, shivering.

Ah well. It can't be worse than what I saw when I looked into the Mirror.

A flash of the picture he _had_ seen flitted briefly across his eyes, and he gripped his pillow tightly.

And the Mirror lied! I'll never see such a thing. I will never see such a thing in my whole life.

When he woke up for the second time, Remus felt infinitely more awake, and infinitely dilapidated. His eyes felt dry and stung when he blinked, his throat was sore—_from screaming, probably—_and there was a pounding in his temples. His whole body felt heavy and numb, apart from his left wrist, which was throbbing dully.

_Mental note to Dorkham: your potion sucks._ He tried to go back to sleep, but was too thirsty to do so. On the table next to him stood a small carafe and a glass; he filled the glass with a trembling hand and drank deeply. His left arm was swathed in bandages from fingers to elbow—healed, no doubt, but still a little weak. Madam Pomfrey was nowhere in sight (he hastily took another glass of water, since she always cautioned him not to drink too much and always took his glass away much too soon to his liking) but the room still smelled of her, so she couldn't be very far away.

I wonder what time it is. No window here. Where's my watch…oh, I left it in the dormitory. Man, my head's spinning. Who needs a hangover with this potion?

He dozed for a few more minutes, but he was wide awake and too uncomfortable to lay still. In the end, he dragged himself out of bed to the small bathroom near Madam Pomfrey's office room, stripped (how did he come to be wearing socks and a sweater?) and let the hot water cleanse the stiffness out of his bones.

He had not felt this rotten in quite some time—_and I still have my essay to finish. At least two more inches._ He yawned, and kept his mouth open to let the water rinse out the aftertaste of the potion. 

I won't ever eat mulberries again. Damn, but I'm beat. I hope this stuff wears off soon, or my whole weekend's screwed.

Another two inches…not today, though, that's for sure. Huh? No more hot water? Oh hell. But this is rather nice too, actually…

He stood under the shower until the water turned from cool to cold, and he was goose bump sall over. As he reached for a towel he was shaking so hard he merely had to hold the thing against his body to get dry, but like all towels in the infirmary it had been charmed to heat up while it was hanging on its peg, and after a few vigorous rubs his skin turned red and warmth spread through his limbs, and the shivering stopped. His arm still hurt, and so did his head, but the grogginess was mostly gone. He felt a lot better already.

Stil,l I can do without this. I really could. I sincerely hope that Dorkham's found a cure for this disease before the month is over. I really don't want to repeat this.

"Hello?" a girl's voice said. "Is somebody in here?"

"Yes," Remus replied, reactively using the towel as a cover, "I…" The door opened.

"Cynthia?"

"Remus? What are you doing here?"

"I was taking a shower." She frowned.

"You know what I mean. What on earth are you doing here? Are you ill? Did you sleep in the bed here in the ICU?" Remus hoisted the towel a bit higher as a gentle hint, but Cynthia did not take it. He shrugged.

"Yeah, I slept here. I occasionally suffer from sleepwalking episodes, you know, right before I wake up? I had one this morning. Woke up at the foot of the stairs. Broke my arm. Probably hit my head too, since it hurts like hell." He smiled at her, but not the kind of smile he ever used with Julie. You're prying, said this smile. Go away. Cynthia, apparently, thought that every male smile was a sign of flirtation. She eyed his bare legs, chest and shoulders with an expression of appreciative interest which made him feel decidedly uneasy.

"You're not as thin as I thought you'd be."

"Delighted I can surprise you. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'd like to get dressed."

"Do you need help?" 

Excuse me? In what way do I seem debilitated to you?

"No," he snapped, "I don't. What the hell are you doing here anyway?" She frowned.

"You don't need to shout at me. I'm in training here. I'll start at Saint Mungo's next year, so…"

"So you prowl around in bathrooms to see whether you can help some sickly people into their clothing?"

"You're being very unfriendly."

"I've got a headache. I'm getting really cold. I want to get dressed, but you're blocking my path. I don't need any help, Cynthia, and I'd really appreciate it if you'd take the bloody hint and go away." Cynthia's beautiful blue eyes grew as cold as the Lake, and she snorted.

"Fine. Don't expect my sympathy if you break something next week."

"I can do without your sympathy." Remus snarled, and immediately was sorry. Firstly, because it wasn't her fault that he felt so badly, and because he did not usually lose his temper. Secondly, because it aggravated the pain in his head.

Bad move, Moony. Never shout at pretty girls when they want to help you. But damn, she's thick! Sure, she's gorgeous, but what does Sirius see in her?

As every month, he found his clothes and robes folded neatly in the corner of the bathroom, and when he came out, Madam Pomfrey beamed at him from the door opening of her office.

"Good morning, Remus! You're awake again, I see. How are you feeling?"

"Stuffy. But fine, I guess."

"Would you sit down for a moment? Just the customary check-up…" He sat down and let himself be prodded and a light shone into his eyes—which made him wince, and she took it away quickly—had his arm examined and his tongue pushed down with a small stick.

"Well, it all seems to be in order. Your arm will probably remain a bit sore for the rest of the day, but tomorrow you should be fine. If your headache doesn't clear on its own, come see me and I'll give you some painkillers. It'd be better if you did not take them, though.

Now, you're probably starving, so I advise you to have a great big breakfast and take it easy for the rest of the day. If you go to bed early today, you're probably back to normal tomorrow."

"And if I'm not?" She smiled, and raised her hand as if she wanted to caress his head, as she had done when he was smaller, but dropped her hand before touching him.

"Then I'll personally fry Professor Dorkham."

"His name is Valentine," Remus provided. She laughed derisively. 

"Really? His mother must have been deluded. No, I should not speak this way. You're evil, mister Lupin, coaching this kind of responses out of me. Now off with you. Bon appetite." 

"Thanks." He stood up, and the world cantered crazily. "Whoa…"

"Blast the man!" Madam Pomfrey muttered under her breath while she caught him as he wavered. "Are you alright?" 

He pressed his fingers against his temples, nodded. After a few blinks, the world swam back into focus.

"Fine, fine…"

"Go and get something to eat, Remus. I'm sure you'll feel a lot better with a full stomach."

"I will. It's better now. I just rose to quickly."

"If it doesn't go away, come back and see me, understood?"

"I'm fine." And he was, as long as he didn't move abruptly. "See? You won't see me for another month."

"Excellent. Good bye!"

"Bye." He turned on his heel, making sure he didn't move too fast, and walked out of the room, giving Madam Pomfrey a final wave. She waved back, and that, he hoped, would be the last he saw of her for another month. Even though he liked her immensely, not seeing her for an entire month was high on his wishing list.

"So," he said aloud to himself. "That's over. Breakfast. Sausages!" and he hastened his step.

It was almost ten when James woke up. The first thing he noticed was Sirius's presence; he lay in the bed next to his, one foot hanging out between the covers, the only other visible bit one closed eye and a pluck of hair.

"Sirius? Hey!" The eye closed even tighter, then, reluctantly, opened.

"Hello, James."

"When did you get back?" Sirius ummed from the depths of his blankets.

"This morning. Early. Went back to sleep when I noticed Moony wasn't here." James sat up, gathering his bedspread around him like a cape.

"Yeah, we missed you yesterday evening."

"I missed being there too. Did everything go alright?" James shrugged.

"Well enough. He broke his arm."  
"Damn."

"Yeah. So. What happened to you? Or don't you want to talk about it? According to Lily…"

"I did something stupid. Yes, it was stupid."

"That's not what she said."

"Hm. Anyway, no, I don't want to talk about it. I've decided to look back on it as a nightmare, and forget about it as soon as possible."

"Okay." They both looked up as Peter's mound of blankets moved, and his round face peeked out, eyes blinking sleepily.

"Oh. Hullo, Sirius. What time is it?"

"Ten to ten."

"Oh. Oh damn, we'll have to hurry if we want to get breakfast!"

As they skidded into the great hall, the few Gryffindors sitting at the table waved at them. One of those few was Lily. The other one was Remus.

"Moony! You're back already!"

"How's your arm? We saw you'd broken it, but we couldn't do anything, so…"

"Sirius! Are you okay now?" Remus smiled, and pointed to his bulging cheeks to signal that he couldn't talk right now. He was pale and a little haggard as usual after Changing, but otherwise he looked fine. And that's what he said himself.

"Poppy declared me healthy as a puppy and kicked me out of the infirmary," he laughed as soon as he had swallowed. "I only need to be careful with my arm today, but she says I'll be perfectly alright tomorrow." And with a glance at Sirius, "And how are you doing this fine young morning?"

"Me?" Sirius buttered a piece of toast. "This fine morning finds me a little bit tired but otherwise fine, thank you."

"Dumbledore managed to dispel you, or whatever he had to do to take this hex off of you?"

"Yeah, he did."

"Hm." Remus munched another sausage. "Judging by your unusual shortage of words, I gather you don't want to talk about it?"

"You gather right, my friend."

"Good. That makes two of us. I don't want to talk about it either."

"Good." Sirius played with his food, building a small house with pieces of toast, using butter and marmalade for specie. Remus devoured another sausage. James, Peter and Lily ate their breakfast in silence, Lily cuddling up to James in the process. Finally, Remus put down his cutlery.

"You know who I ran into at the infirmary?" 

"No?" said James.

"Cynthia," said Sirius, and drizzled honey onto the roof of his house. Remus raised his eyebrows.

"How'd you know?"

"She told me."

"Did she now? Oh, then it's okay, I guess…"

"Why?"

"You two didn't have a fight, did you?"

"No…?" Remus shrugged.

"Well it's just that she…surprised me. She kind of startled me by walking into the bathroom while I was just towelling myself dry. And she…er…didn't really leave. Immediately. Does she do that more often?" A weird lopsided smile twitched Sirius's mouth.

"I wouldn't know. Not with me, that's for sure."

"Not that she did anything indecent or something, but it was kinda weird. Maybe she really did want to help me. She's terribly serious about this Saint Mungo thing, isn't she?"

"I guess…"

"Are you sure you didn't fight?" Lily asked. "You're being awfully placid about this."

Sirius leaned back to examine his handiwork. It was a quite accurate copy of his garden shed—not that the others would notice—and he was secretly surprised that it looked so professional.

"Well, why not?" he said, building a fence with strips of bacon. "I mean, she didn't offer her body to you or something, did she? Or did she?"

"No, she didn't."

"Well then. I don't see why I should be anything but placid. She's a big girl. If she wants to go around and walk in on people under the shower, that's her choice."

"Sirius, you've smoked too many joints."

"James, you're just way too jealous. Did she check out your body?" The corner of Remus's mouth twitched.

"She did, as a matter of fact. She said I was less skinny than she'd expected."

"See? She checks out other men's bodies, so she can compare them with mine. And when she sees mine, and compares it with Remus's…"

"She'll decide that she prefers skinny and take her next shower with me," Remus mused. "I hadn't looked at it that way." He yelped as Sirius flung a boiled egg to his head.

"I think I'll have a little word with her," the black-haired boy growled under his breath. "I won't have her harassing my friends." James grinned, and stroked Lily's cheek.

"I'm so glad we never have scenes like this." The girl grinned back.

"No. But then I've never seen Remus's body."

"Let's keep it that way." said James with a dangerous smile.

The Saturday dragged on without any excitement, and in the evening they decided to go to Hogsmeade and see whether something was up in the Three Broomsticks. The walk to Hogsmeade itself proved to be an adventure already, since it was storming so hard they could hardly fight their way against the wind. Quidditch practice had been cancelled already, and James's and Sirius's greatest fear was that the match would be cancelled as well.

When they entered the Three Broomsticks they were all gasping for breath and shaking on their legs. It took their combined effort to close the door behind them, and when they fell down on the seats nearest to the door, they did not even have the energy to order any drinks.

"Holy shit," James panted, taking his glasses from his nose and cleaning them with the hem of his robes, "I've never seen it this bad. I hate to say it, but I'm glad Madam Hooch forbade us to fly today. We'd've been blown away like feathers."

"I could do it," Sirius challenged, but when nobody took him on he sighed. "Yeah. Pretty little storm. Who's gonna get the drinks? Peter?"

"Give me…another minute…okay?"

"Wimp. Moony?" Remus had both his elbows on the table and cradled his head in his hands.

"No." he said curtly. James arched an eyebrow.

"Are you okay?" The other boy exhaled loudly.

"I wish you'd stop asking me all the time. Yes, I'm fine. Ah hell, no, I'm not. I hate Dorkham! I hate his guts, and I hope he'll fall into one of his big kettles and gets horribly burned. Bastard!"

"Whooa, Moony…"

"My head's splitting!" Remus snarled, knuckling his temples. "His fucking potion didn't work at all! Sure, it drugged me into a stupor, and it kept me from breaking more than my arm but fuck! I can't believe they put me through this!"

"You just need a drink." Sirius hushed. According to Sirius, everything could be solved with two objects: alcohol or weed, and sex. "I think I need one too. James?"

"Beer, nothing stronger."

"Peter?"

"I'll have what you have."

"I'm having what I can persuade Rosmerta to give me. Lil?"

"If everybody's going to get drunk I'll try the Foaming Cocktail," Lily decided, and reached for her wallet. "Here, I've been scrounging for so long I'll buy this round. If you go and get it; my legs are all mushy." Sirius grinned.

"I'd be delighted. Be back in a moment."

It was a little more than a moment, but then he arrived with a tray full of drinks (beer for James, whiskey for himself, Peter and Remus, who eyed it moodily but did not protest) and a high cocktail glass with blue foaming liquid for Lily.

"She was a bit stingy with the apple gin at first," Sirius said, "but when I told her we'd walked the whole way and were in need of some serious warming she added a bit more. I hope it won't make you sick," he added as an afterthought, and dipped his finger in a dollop of foam on the table. "Mmmm. Apples!"

"My apples!" Lily warned, and pulled the glass closer to her chest. Sirius rolled his eyes.

"James, your girlfriend's an alcoholic. She's hugging her glass like other women would hug their babies." Both James and Lily gave a little start. "What?" Peter began to laugh.

"Babies," he said. "You just hit a nerve." Lily shrugged, and took the straw with the red umbrella between her lips. She sucked, and hummed appreciatively.

"I saw it in the Mirror," she said. "Me having a baby. And now I want to have one." She pouted. "James won't let me have one."

"For heaven's sake, love, I can only get it up so many times." Peter choked on his whiskey, and Sirius chuckled as well. Lily stuck out her tongue.

"I know I'm overreacting," she went on, still smiling but serious nevertheless, "and I know I shouldn't have a baby this young. And it's not as if I flushed all my pills through the toilet or something—I'm not that rash, and you know it. It's just…seeing that baby in my arms…it was so…perfect."

"Honey?" James said, making very big eyes. "You're scaring me."

"You didn't see any babies, did you?"

"No…"

"Does that mean you're afraid of them?"

"Of course not!"

"Then stop complaining. Your greatest desire is to marry me, right?"

"Yeah…"

"Well, my greatest desire is to be married to you and have your babies. Live with it."

"You can always turn out to be a barren," Peter added. Lily's bright green eyes opened wide with sudden alarm, just as Remus's upper lip curled almost to his nose.

"You can be such a bloody git, Peter." he growled, putting down his half-empty glass. "Really. Of course Lily isn't barren. She and James are going to populate this entire country with red-haired little Potters, and we're all going to be their godfathers."  
"That's right," Sirius perked up. "If you're getting any children they should have a godfather." James, who had frowned at Peter's remark, now began to look a little shifty.

"Er, guys…we're a bit young to talk about godfathership, right? I mean, we aren't even married yet…"

"You don't need to be married to beget children," Sirius said wisely. Peter winced.

"In that case the country will be populated with little Siriuses rather sooner than…"

"Shut up, Peter."

"Why do you always tell me to shut up? Shut up yourself!"

"Stop shouting," Remus murmured.

"Shut up!" Peter shouted. "I'm so fed up with you putting me down all the time! You're not the only one who has problems, you know!"

Remus took a deep breath. Then he shot out one arm, grabbed Peter by the neck and threw him face-down on the table.

"Remus!" James and Lily cried in shock. "Put him down! Let him go!"

"Listen to me," Remus growled in Peter's ear. "I don't care about your feelings at the moment. Usually I do, but not right now. I don't want to hurt you, and I really hope I haven't hurt you right now, but I swear to God, Peter, if you scream at me one more time I'll rip out your tongue." He closed his eyes for a moment, and released his grip on Peter's collar. "Stand up." Peter slid down, staring at him wide-eyed, a red bruise on his cheek where he had been slammed against the table. He was a pitiable sight, and Remus sank back on his chair with a muffled moan.

"Oh fuck," he said, and pressed his fingers against his forehead. "I'm sorry. I'm really, really sorry. But you shouldn't have screamed at me. You shouldn't…" He shrank back when Lily touched his face with her hand, "Don't touch me!"

"What the hell is wrong with you?" she snapped back. "First you hit Peter, now you shout at me,"

"He didn't hurt me," Peter, as always easily pacified interjected, but he fell silent as Sirius lay his hand on his shoulder.  Remus rested his forehead on his templed fingers.

"I didn't shout at you," he muttered. "I just don't want you to touch me. It hurts. It hurts…"

"I think we should go home," James said, quietly. "You're obviously still suffering from the after effects of Dorkham's potion."

"Dorkham's name is Valentine," Sirius mused aloud. "I kept saying that to myself while I was in Dumbledore's office."

"It's not funny," Remus murmured, and missed Sirius's look of insight.

"No," the black-haired boy whispered. "It isn't. Not enough, at least, to last you through what you're going through at that moment." Remus's lower lip began to quiver.

"I hate him," he said, and pressed his lips together to stop the quivering. "I h-hate him."

"Let's go home," Lily said. She finished her cocktail. "Are you coming, Peter?" The smaller boy nodded, and followed them as they went out into the storm again. Even though they had the wind in their backs all the way to the castle, they did not speak at all.

To be continued…

Next chapter: The Match and the Virus.


	13. VIRUS 13

Hello all! Thanks for the reviews! I'm sorry for the relatively long wait. Finding a job takes a lot of time. Less than a job, but a lot of time nevertheless. Anyway, it's a rather long chapter, so it shouldn't be too bad. People who hate to see Remus getting tortured, stop reading now. I'm starting in this chapter. Next chapter will be my favourite, I guess (evil grin). Hmmm. I only hope I'm not to late to introduce another part of the plot I haven't had the chance to insert earlier—for yes, there will actually be a plot! Enjoy!

13. Frayed nerves.

Back in the Gryffindor common room, Remus stopped only to drop his wet robes in front of the hearth, and headed for the stairs.

"Where're you going?" called Sirius, and ran to catch up with him. "Come on, Remus. Peter said he was fine."

"He may be fine, but I'm not," Remus said tightly. He leaned his head against the cold wall. "I could've hurt him, Sirius. I could have killed him, if I…"

"But you didn't! Hell, you just lost your temper, it's not that big a deal."

"I never lose my temper. I can't afford to." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "All I want to do right now is go to bed and sleep. And believe me," a faint smile, "you don't want me around the way I feel now."

Sirius pushed his fists into his pockets.

"Sure. Get some sleep. Tomorrow we can lay traps for Dorkham, if you're feeling better." Remus shook his head.

"Can't. I need to write another two inches on my essay."

"Since when do you need a whole day to write two inches?" Remus sighed.

"Good night, Sirius. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Remus…"

"Tomorrow." Pushing himself away from the wall, he held up his hand to quell Sirius's words, then turned around and ascended the stairs. Sirius frowned.

"Sure. Whatever you want." He went back to the others, who were trying to persuade a couple of third years to leave their cosy place by the fire. The third years refused to budge, and in the end the Marauders had to sit on the rug on the floor, their backs to the fire. Sirius flopped down next to James, searched for something to play with and finally decided on the poker.

"Good night from Remus." Lily snorted.

"What on earth is the matter with him? He actually scared me. Oh, that reminds me, Peter, does your cheek still hurt? I can heal you, if you like." Whether Peter really wanted to be healed was beside the point; she flourished her wand, took his chin in her hand and touched his cheek, murmuring a spell. The bruise disappeared.

"Thanks, I guess." Peter said, rubbing his cheek.

"No prob. I still can't believe he…"

"Drop it, Lil," James interrupted her, patting her knee to take the sharpness out of his words. "He must've had his reasons. I don't think his Ch…" he looked at the third years. They were all occupied, but nevertheless he lowered his voice as he went on, "that yesterday was easy on him. Otherwise he wouldn't be so upset." 

She shook her shoulders, unconvinced.

"Sirius went through something quite unpleasant yesterday,"

"Hell." Sirius said softly.

"…and he isn't knocking us around." 

"But then I'm not just a wimpy wer…Moony," He idly turned the poker into a riding crop. "He said he had a headache. Me, I say Dorkham messed up his potion and messed Remus up with it."

"Having a headache's no reason to beat people up," Lily maintained stubbornly.

"It is, when they shout at you and you have a really bad headache," said Sirius, just as stubbornly. James held up his hands.

"Hey, hey! Let's not fight, shall we? Remus was on edge and took it out on Peter. Peter accepted his apology. End of discussion. Another question arises: what shall we do now? It's barely eight."

"We could write a letter to Hagrid?" Peter suggested. "We haven't heard from him in ages. I wonder how that centaur's doing."

"Roland," Sirius remembered. "Just like the Ravelclaw Head Boy."

"What do you care about Ravenclaw Head Boys?" He shrugged.

"His existence made Cynthia fear for her room. Never mind. It isn't something you'd understand." James chuckled.

"Did he turn you out of Cynthia's room?" Sirius swiped the whip at him.

"No, he did not. So, who's providing the parchment? I've got the quill right here." He transfigured the whip into a large peacock-feather quill, to the amazement of the third years.

"You should see what I can do with women's underwear," he told them, and they all laughed. Lily got a piece of parchment and some ink, and they bowed over their letter.

Dear Hagrid,

Peter wrote, since he had the most legible handwriting,

How are you doing? We hadn't heard from you for such a long time we decided to write this letter. It's storming really hard outside, so we're not sure we can send out an owl, but if you don't get this letter today, you'll certainly get it tomorrow.

How are your patients doing? Is Roland the centaur okay now? You said the trotters were doing better, are they completely cured? Do you happen to know how Dorkham's doing with his antidote? We can't wait to have you chase us out of the Forest again.

Are you coming to the match on Monday, or are you still in quarantine? We all hope that you'll come; it promises to be the best match in ages.

Lily asks if you need anything, groceries, perhaps, since you're working non-stop and have probably been prohibited to go to Hogsmeade. If you want, we can buy you some stuff.

Anyway, we're doing fine and are suffering from nothing but boredom (although Sirius did something stupid again, but he won't let me write about it).

All the best,

The Marauders (and Lily)

The letter finished, Sirius and James went down to the owlery to search for Render, and Peter and Lily played a few games of Exploding Snap. Upon their return, Sirius and James joined in, Lily healed Sirius's bleeding fingers (Render had been found, tied to the letter, and released into the storm), and James dug up a hidden bag of Cow drops from the head of a statue.

At ten, Peter declared it a day, wished his friends good night and skipped up the stairs to the dormitory. Inside, it was pitch dark, so he lit the tip of his wand to find the way to his bed.

"Whaaaahh!!!!" Remus cried, bolting upright and scaring Peter so badly he bumped against the edge of his bed and fell on top of his sheets. "I don't want to…! Oh, it's you." Peter took a big gulp of air.

"Remus! You frightened me to death!" He searched for his wand, which had rolled beneath his bed. In the dim light, he could see Remus rub his hand across his face.

"I was asleep," he said. "You woke me up."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be, I was having a nightmare anyway." He pulled up his legs to his familiar foetal position, pulled his blankets tightly around his shoulders. "What time is it?"

"Ten-ish."

"Oh. I must've slept for hours.

"Peter?"

The boy's affirmative sound was muffled by his sweater.

"I just wanted to say that I'm sorry." The sweater thumped on the floor, on top of Peter's shoes. His trousers and socks followed.

"That's alright."

"No, it isn't. I never should've done such a thing." Peter shrugged.

"You had a headache. I shouted at you. You lost your temper. I'll live. Lily healed me." He quickly dressed in his pyjamas. "I'm not mad at you." A snort. "Hell, after all the pranks Sirius pulled on me, what you did was nothing."

"Still. I'm sorry." Peter sighed.

"Don't be." He slipped into his slippers, padded over to Remus's bed and sat down, curling his legs beneath him. "I'm sure Lily's more angry with you than I am." Remus blinked. His eyes were very dark in the sparse light.

"Lily? Why's she angry with me?"

"Because you hit me. It's a girl thing, I guess. So how's your head now?" The other boy shrugged, a minimal lifting of the blankets.

"Better, now I've slept for a while. I never should have drunk so much whiskey. I should've known I'd flip." He knuckled his forehead. "Still, it's no excuse for…"

"Slamming me on the table, yeah, yeah. You're falling into repetition, my friend. Let's make a deal: I'll be sorry for shouting at you, and then you can be sorry for hitting me. How's that?" Remus grinned.

"Deal." They shook hands.

"Peter?"

"Yeah?"

"When I'm…a wolf. When I've Changed. Am I…are you afraid of me?" Peter smoothed the cotton of his decent striped pj's, and shrugged.

"A little. Sometimes."

"Why?" another shrug.

"When you've Changed you're this massive wolf, Remus. You're a wolf as big as you are right now, of course you're kinda scary. Especially in the beginning, when we couldn't control you at all. Now, I'm rarely afraid of you, but you, I mean the wolf, remains a magical creature with great big teeth, so…Why d'you ask?" 

Remus lay his head on his knees.        

"I saw…him," he said softly. "Last night. The wolf. That's what the potion did: it quickened the Change, and I wasn't ready for it, not…not in my mind. The potion drugged me until I was completely helpless, and then the wolf came out, and…I don't expect you to understand. But I…I was so afraid that…that it would kill me, you know, and that I'd never be able to come back, that I'd lose my whole consciousness to that…creature." He drew a deep, quivery breath. "I don't ever want to experience that again. Ever. If they haven't found a cure for the virus before the next full moon, I'm gone. I won't take that potion again. I swear I won't."

"Was that what you were dreaming about, when I woke you up?"

"Yeah. I'm glad you did. Wake me up. I could've done with a wake-up last night." Peter smiled.

"You're welcome." He yawned. "I'm going to bed. I wonder where I left my tooth brush—or rather, where Sirius left it. Good night—and try not to scream again when James or one of the others come in. Bad for our hearts." Remus grinned.

"I'll try. Good night, Peter."

"Night," Peter said, and, finding his tooth brush, went to the bathroom to polish for the night. Remus lay down again, smiling gently to himself, and fell asleep almost immediately.

The next day Liza Wood burst into their room at eight fifteen, physically dragged a yelling Sirius and James out of bed and threatened to strip off their pj's and dress them in their Quidditch clothes herself if they didn't hurry up.

"Storm's over!" she cheered. "We just have to get some practice! Move your ass, Sirius! Lily and Simone're waiting downstairs, and Sam's already out on the pitch. James! You don't need to shave! Move it! Move it!" 

Five minutes later, peace and quiet returned.

"I'm so glad I wasn't good enough to join the Team," Will Deveraux muttered, stretching luxuriously beneath his comfortable bed spread. Peter answered with a nod nobody noticed. Remus did not react at all. As soon as Liza whirled into the room, he had pulled the blankets over his head, and as soon as the worst of the noise died down, had fallen asleep again.

He still slept when Peter and Will got up for breakfast, and kept on sleeping when James came running back during a break to fetch his scarf and winter Quidditch gloves. He woke up a few minutes before one, stretched, took a shower and ate himself to bursting during lunch. The headache had not completely gone yet, but it had eased to a faint unpleasant throb, and he felt good enough to write the last two inches of his essay on Sirens. 

After that, he sauntered over to the Quidditch pit, where Liza, Lily and Gildford Colins, the third Chaser, were discussing formations and techniques. As Liza had said, the storm had blown over, but it had left a bitter cold in its wake. All players wore thick scarves, robes, hats and gloves; they looked like snowmen on broomsticks.

"Hey Remus!" One of the snowmen flew over his head, did a boastful and dangerous back-flip and landed in front of him. Of course it was Sirius. "Feel any better?"

"Much. Still trying to break your back, I see? Liza won't be too pleased if you do so right before the match, you know."

"Huh. She'd spit on me and take you instead. I won't let Liza spoil my fun. What kept you so long?" Remus shrugged.

"I slept until noon, then finished my essay."

"Headache's gone? Or can we still manhandle Dorky-poo?" The other boy burst into laughter.

"Dorky-poo? You mean Valentine?"

"Yeah?"

"You can leave him alone, I guess. How's the practice going?" Sirius grinned widely.

"James swallowed the Snitch. Yup, he actually did! He's probably throwing it back up right now in the loving care of Madam Pomfrey. So we're discussing techniques and practicing throws and stuff until he comes back."

"Can't you just wait until it comes out the natural way?"

"Hahahaha! D'you know how big a Snitch is, Remus? It's small, but not so small you can just shit it out without getting some serious problems. And those little wings…no, I'm sure James's more than happy to puke it up. I only hope he washes it afterwards. Kinda gross for the Ravenclaw Seeker if she catches it, otherwise. Not that she'll get the chance…"

Ten minutes later, James came ambling back, a little pale, but holding the Snitch triumphantly in his fist.

            They played until two o' clock, when the Ravenclaw Team demanded to have some time to practice as well, and went inside to shower and have a small snack before dinner.

"We can't possibly lose," James said, cramming cakes into his mouth. "We're jufp foo goop!"

"Our goop-ness is unmatched," Sirius agreed. "And next time you swallow the Snitch you can even keep it inside of you as a token of—ow! What'd you do that for?!"

"It's your fault anyway," James said accusingly. "You bumped into me when I tried to catch it."

"Well you did catch it, didn't you?"

"Yeah, but…"

"So why're you complaining. Give me a piece of cake too, you mean Scottish bastard!"

            The Marauders were blissfully occupying the chairs around the hearth, and sent everybody away who wanted to have a seat as well. Lily was satisfying her library-fetish, as James called it, and would not join them before supper. Both Peter and Remus were happy about this; the first because Lily's presence never ceased to remind him of the absence of a girlfriend of his own, the second because disregarding how much he liked her, he thought the Marauders functioned better as a foursome than as a fivesome. 

During one of her Quidditch breaks he had apologised for snapping at her the evening before, and she had forgiven him with the same impulsivity as she had decided to be angry with him. Nevertheless he did not mourn her absence. 

"I'm not Scottish." James protested. "Remus's Scottish. I'm not."

"No? You'd never guess, the way you're hoarding that cake."

"I had to puke everything out to get the Snitch back! I deserve my cake! Hey! Give it back!"

"Children," Remus said, as both his friends began a struggle for food. "Behave yourself." He deftly plucked the remaining piece of cake from the plate, and took a large bite.

"Good cake. Where'd you get it?"

"My cake!" James wailed. "You…you…thief!"

"Oh, sorry. Want it back?" He held up the half-eaten slice, but James shook his head.

"No," he sulked. "You've disfigured it." At that, Remus choked on a crumb and began to cough so hard they all thought he would suffocate.

"Dis-disfigured it?" he brought out in between coughs. "Sirius…stop pounding…on my back…I ate it, you idiot! You can't…" cough, "disfigure cake."

"You just did," James said, but he couldn't keep his woeful expression and grinned widely.

"Anyway, you were justly punished by my poor abused piece of cake."

"Great," Remus coughed. Every time he coughed, a thin sliver of pain lit up between his temples. "It almost killed me."

"That'll teach you not to steal food from your friends.

"Yes, what is it?" he asked, when a squat girl he did not recognise halted next to his seat. She could be no older than thirteen, and flustered when he spoke to her. Her eyes were a little like Madam Hooch's, but they were more like a dove's than like a hawk's: totally black, with no visible white.

"Um," she stuttered, "Your painted lady let me in. I'm looking for a Gryffindor called Remus Lupin. Do you know where I can find him?"

"I'm Lupin," Remus said with a final cough. "What do you want from me?"

"Um. I'm from the owlery. I take care of the owls. You, um, got a letter. But not by owl. I don't dare take it from its foot. Could you please come with me? It's upsetting the owls."

"You're Lisbeth Fowl, aren't you?" Peter said. "From Hufflepuff." She nodded.

"If you could please come with me?"

"Sure. But what brought the letter, if you're so afraid of it?" She sniffed.

"I'm not afraid of it. But the owls are."

"I want to see this," Sirius said, and they all followed the girl to the owlery.

The owlery smelled of feathers, bird droppings and hay, and was filled with the rustling, coo-ing and clicking sounds of owls. Lisbeth led them through the main building, where James was greeted by his own owl (Render was nowhere in sight), all the way to a small alcove in the back.

"There it is. I couldn't approach it."

"Holy hell," James cursed inventively, and Peter laughed aloud. In the middle of the alcove, staring disdainfully at the owl treats the girl had apparently offered it, sat a large vulture. A thin yellow tube was tied to its left leg. Remus moaned, and Sirius grinned.

"Looks like your parents sent you a message, Moony."

"Yeah, looks like it. But damn…a vulture! Whatever happened to Albert?" He stepped into the alcove, but as soon as he was within a meter from the carrion bird, it gave a menacing squawk and opened its beak.

"Oh shut up! I'm not gonna hurt you." The bird informed him that it suffered no such delusions on its side. Remus hastily pulled his hand back.

"What is it with aggressive fowls these days?" he wondered.

"Maybe it's you," Sirius suggested. "Let me try. Hello mister Vulture. How're you doing today? Care to have that annoying little tube removed, huh?" The vulture shook its wings and squawked. "I thought so. Well, all you have to do is let me untie it from your leg. So please hold out your leg. Come on, you're the one to profit from this…okay!" The Marauders cheered softly as the vulture stiffly held out its leg, and Sirius quickly removed the small cylinder.

"Well done Sirius!"

"Very good!"

"Now we know why you're so good with women!"

"Ha ha. Very funny," Sirius grumbled, dropping the message in Remus's waiting hands.

"Er, Lisbeth was it?" The girl nodded. "He's all yours—if it is a he. I don't know what you're planning to do with him?"

Remus, who had shook out a thin, closely written parchment and had already started reading it, suddenly laughed out loud.

"What is it?" The other boy coughed, thumped his fist on this chest, cleared his throat, then held up his letter.

"My parents have safely arrived in Tibet. They wrote that Albert didn't much like the local populace when it came to birds; they pecked him so badly he refuses to get out of his cage. Hence the vulture. It's a she, by the way, and they've called her Martha." He grinned.

"Well Martha. Thank you for delivering this letter to me. I'll write a quick reply, which Sirius will tie to your leg…"

"What?" said Sirius.

"And then you can go back to Tibet. Unless you want to stay here, of course." The bird eyed him ominously. Peter giggled.

"I don't think she likes you much."

"I really can't be bothered. Stop snickering, James, you look like a moron.

Lisbeth, could you fetch me a piece of parchment and a quill?" The girl bobbed her head and disappeared. Peter whistled.

"And you say you don't know how to handle women." Remus coughed again, shot him a despairing glance.

"Peter, she's barely out of diapers!"

"I'd settle for that."

"You're sick." he said, and coughed some more.

"Shall I pound your back again?" offered Sirius attentively. "James's cakes are die-hards."

"No, thank you.

"Ah, thanks, Lisbeth." He absentmindedly bit the tip of the owlery quill. "Mmm. What shall I write?"

"Write that you're doing fine, got their letter, aren't missing them, and wishing them a safe journey."

"They're hunting for a sick Yeti."

"Then wish them a good hunt." said Sirius, and James wondered whether they were in the right part of Tibet if they found vultures.

"Aren't Yeti supposed to be ice creatures?"

"Tibet's a big place," Remus said, scribbling. "They had to get there by broom, train and portkey. But apparently there's a portkey in the mountains which can take them to the colder regions directly." He paused. "I only hope they won't take the Yeti home with them. That vampire wasn't much of a success."

"No," James shivered. He would never forget that holiday. Remus's parents were really nice people, but they had a Hagridian love for Magical creatures (which was only fortunate for Remus, he supposed), that was a bit disturbing. Sirius grinned at him.

"And he was such a nice guy."

"He didn't try to suck your neck during poker sessions."

"No…damn good at poker, though."

After a few minutes Remus had finished his letter, Sirius bribed Martha to submission (with a transfigured owl treat) and tied it to her leg, and they went back to the common room, where Remus curled up in a chair to read his letter.

Dear Remus,

You wouldn't believe how tiring it is to fly such long distances through a snow storm…

Thus entertained, he spent the rest of the afternoon snuggled cosily in his comfy chair.

At dinner, James ate even more than Remus. Firstly because he was hungry after a long day of Quidditch and chess, secondly because he knew he wouldn't be able to get a single morsel through his throat the following morning. Nerves were a terrible thing for James Potter.

As for Remus, he still felt stuffed from his late breakfast, and the heat of the fire in the common room and all his coughing had created a dull throbbing ache in his temples, so he devoted himself to the deserts instead.

The heat and the coughing—and Dorkham's bloody potion. I won't ever let them feed it to me again!

He called it an early night, just like the previous night, and went to bed at nine, hoping he would feel better in the morning.

But he did not feel better. As a matter of fact he felt worse, much worse. His head was almost as bad as it had been on the night he had hit Peter, and his stomach felt tight and hard, as if he'd swallowed stones. As he dragged himself out of bed and cooled his painful head with water, he wondered whether it was possible to press charges for poisoning. Dorkham was a maniac. He should be locked up in Saint Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies instead of teaching Potions to innocent teenagers. Remus was glad he'd finished his essay the day before, and that today would be mostly occupied by the Match. He was sure he wouldn't have gotten a single spell right if he'd had to cast one.

Maybe I feel better after breakfast. I did after my Change…

However, the scents of toast, eggs and sausages downstairs in the great hall made him feel vaguely nauseous, so he sat next to James, who was looking white and sick with pre-game nerves, took a small bite of toast and crumbled the rest of it to bits on his plate.

James did not even pretend to eat. His plate remained gleaming empty; all he managed was a glass of orange juice.

"Come on, Prongs," Sirius said, shoving scrambled eggs onto his plate, "pull a more cheerful face. We're gonna win this Match, and you know it. You've caught the Snitch within ten minutes every single game we've played in the past week."

"I know," James murmured. He looked at Lily, who just sank her teeth into a thickly marmaladed piece of toast, and hastily looked straight in front of him again. "But I still won't have any breakfast, thank you.

"Hello," he added, as Remus bent double in a fit of coughing, "that doesn't sound healthy."

"Ahhh." Lupin squeezed the bridge of his nose, glared at him accusingly. "It's your stupid crumb. I've been coughing like mad since I choked on your cake."

"It must've sensed that you're Scottish."

"I don't even have an accent. How could it have known I'm Scottish?" A thin smile broke through the pale line of James's nerves-pressed mouth.

"You wouldn't believe the patriotism of English cake."

"You're mental. Cakes don't have a sense of patriotism."

"No," Sirius interrupted. "Only scones have. Cheer up, Moony. Some fresh air will drive the demons from your lungs."

"Yeah, right."

There was a movement to their right, and James froze to a perfect statue as Liza Woods, looking just as sick as he did, rose from her seat.

"Uh-oh. That's our cue. O hell oh hell…"

"Go for it, James!" Peter cheered. "Let 'm see what we're made of!"

"Yeah…" James said thinly. "I'll…see you guys outside, I guess." Lily grabbed his arm.

"Come along, love. Sirius! You'll crack your broom if you eat any more."

"Nerves," Sirius said, and grabbed another sausage. "I'll be right with you."

"No, you're coming along now. We don't want you throwing up in the middle of the game. See you later!" Dragging both boys with her, Lily disappeared after Liza, Gildford, Sam and Simone.

"But I'm still hungry!" Sirius wailed. Remus smiled.

"This game should be the best in ages," he said, and Peter agreed with him.

When breakfast was cleared away, the whole school streamed out to the stands around the Quidditch pitch. All teachers were present as well, with, unsurprisingly, the sole exception of Professor Dorkham.

"I hope he's working on a cure for the virus." Peter shouted over the din of hundreds of voices talking. Remus nodded, and huddled deeper into his robes. While the cold breeze served well to clear his head, it stung his eyes and made him shiver violently.

I should've brought a scarf. Or worn a thicker sweater. I'm freezing here.

Peter seemed to have no trouble with the breeze, and neither did the Ravenclaw girl that was sitting next to him, in the Ravenclaw audience. Her cheeks were bright red and her eyes were shining as she turned around and smiled.

"Hey Remus! Long time no see!" It was Julie. He gave her a little wave.

"Yeah, I know. Been busy." She laughed.

"Liar. But we had a nice evening, didn't we?" He laughed as well, then cupped his hands over his mouth as he began to cough again.

"Sorry. Yes, we did have a nice evening. Care to, sorry, have to cough again," He coughed, "Care to repeat it?"

He truly was interested in her answer. She shrugged.

"Maybe…"

"If you don't want to, I…"

"Oh no, I might want to." She slanted her head, giving him an unconscious wink. It was one of the things he had always found so charming about her, that little winking-tic. "Just…setting a date on the day of the Match between our houses?"

"No, bad idea," he agreed. "We might end up killing each other."

"Let's set a date for the setting of a date, then." she decided. "Tomorrow after Herbology?"

"Fine. If, of course, you've gotten over the loss you'll suffer today." She stuck out her tongue.

"The best'll win." He grinned.

"Yup. That's exactly what I mean."

"Git." She gave him a final smile, then whooped together with the rest of the Ravenclaws as their Team walked into the pit. A moment later, the Gryffindors followed as their Team arrived.

"There are the Teams," a Ravenclaw boy's amplified voice boomed through the stands. "Aren't they looking sharp today?"

"James doesn't," Peter muttered. "He looks like he's gonna faint any moment."

"Sssh."

"There's Madam Hooch. Liza Wood and Timothy Leary shake hands, and shake and shake—come one, Timmy, this is a Match here, not a meet and greet affair! And…yes, the Snitch's off, and there go the Bludgers—we're on!"

And so the Match started. All players rose in the air, and then they changed from ordinary pupils to warriors, losing most of their humanity as they flashed through the air.

"Oooh, great shot, too bad Sirius Black was there to…oh no, no, that was close, but Ravenclaw still has possession of the Quaffle, yes, go Timothy! Noooo, bad move, the ball goes to Simone Siddle…to Liza Wood…and she scores! Ten point to Gryffindor!"

Remus winced as a roar even louder than the welcoming cheer rose up from the Gryffindor crowd.

"…Back to Timothy…Jordan…Timothy…watch out for that Bludger! Saved by the wonderful and talented Sarah o'Connor! Timothy goes…dodges…excellent move! And he scores! Ten point each!"

            The Ravenclaws went insane for a few seconds, and Remus clasped his hands over his ears. God…they're so LOUD.

"And there goes Lily Evans—love your hair, Lily!"

"Could you please keep it to the game, Richard?" McGonagall's voice interrupted dryly, and Richard chuckled, amplified a hundred times over the playground.

"Sorry Professor. Lily has the Quaffle. Throws to Sam Creevey. Back to Lily. To Simone. To Liza…aaah, no, no goal! Great aim, Wilkins!"

Both Ravenclaw and Gryffindor hollered, Hufflepuff cheered and Slytherin booed. Remus pressed his icy fingers against his temples. Every yell crashed into his head like a small explosion, making his eyes water and his hands clench into fists with pain.

This is not and after effect. This is a cold, must be a cold…

He began to cough again.

"…and Timothy. Jordan. Irene. And back to Jordan! Yes, he scores! Twenty to ten for Ravenclaw! Gildford takes the ball. To Lily. Aaah, she's hit by a Bludger! Quaffle goes to Irene—hey! That's a foul!" The Quaffle bounced on the ground, and Irene and Lily made a dive for it.

"Fooouuul!" Richard screamed furiously, paying no attention to McGonagall's hushing comments. "He hit her on purpose!"

"Foul my ass!" Peter screamed at Julie, who was dancing on her seat yelling 'Penalty! Penalty!'. "There're no rules for hitting Bludgers! O'Connor's the one who messed up! Huh?" He started as Remus used his shoulder to push himself to his feet.

"Where're you going?"

"Back to the castle."

"What? Now? Why? They've barely started yet!" Remus pressed the palm of his hand against his forehead.

"I don't feel so good. Let me through."

"But you'll miss the whole game!"

"You can tell me all about it later, okay. I really want to go back." Peter pouted, then gasped as Sally Bartley, the Ravenclaw Seeker suddenly shot straight into the air.

"Nooo! No, she can't! Where the hell is James?" Remus pointed.

"There he goes! But…it's a feint! What's he doing up there? Compose a play?" He squinted against the sun, shielding his eyes against the worst of its glare, but could not see the Snitch. 

"The game goes on. No penalties." Richard sulked. "Lily has the Quaffle."

"I'll see you later," Remus said quietly, and wormed himself through the opening between the seat and the stands so that he could drop down at the back of the stands.

            As he slowly walked back to the castle, the cheers from his fellow students rose up again, and he almost turned around to see what was happening, but he felt too ill to go back. It was strange, this feeling. He hadn't been ill since he was a small boy, and this was different than the pain of the Change, every month. That pain was acute but seldom lasted longer than a few minutes. It was also different than his recuperation from the Change, when all his bones were singing their own song of abuse and his limbs felt as if they belonged to someone else. This pain, which throbbed in his head and made his stomach clench to a hard ball, was constant and irritating; if it hadn't lasted for such a long time already he would not even have noticed it. But as he stood still to hack into his hands, the pain rose to a pitch that had him moaning softly, and it took him a few minutes before he had blinked all the white spots away, and could walk on.

Okay, he thought to himself. I finally caught cold. Great. Apart from giving me the most horrid nightmares old Valentine's potion has apparently dropped my resistance so drastically that I caught the flu right after I Changed.

He wondered whether he should go and see Madam Pomfrey, ask her for some pepper-up potion, but a. most likely she was at the Game in case of emergencies, and b. he hated pepper-up. It made him feel like a boiled egg.

My healing system'll probably kick in as soon as all the remains of the Lycanthrope potion's out of my blood. So I'll just drink a lot of water, go to bed, sweat it out and be fine in the morning.

Satisfied with this design, he quickly walked up the stairs, occasionally pausing to cough, asked a passing house elf for a mug of tea, which he got within a few seconds, entered the dormitory and undressed. His sheets felt icy against his feet and hands, and even chilled him through the flannel cloth of his pyjamas.

Isn't that an aspect of the flu? Being cold all the time?

He warmed his hands on his steaming mug and sat on his feet to get them warm. But even when they grew warmer, he was still shivering, and the hot tea did nothing to ease the pain in his head and the tight feeling in his belly.

Hmm. Maybe I should go and see Poppy after all. At least pepper-up leaves you warm, and I must say that no matter how interesting this is, I don't much like being sick.

Well, when the match's finished, then.

Tea finished, he curled up to a small warm ball and closed his eyes.

I really hope we'll win. Although Julie'd be in a better mood if they did…

Hugging his knees to his chest, he let all thoughts leave his mind, and drifted off to sleep.

To be continued…

Next Chapter: Remus falls ill. Poppy Pomfrey confronts Dorkham. Sirius is angsty.


	14. VIRUS 14 Remus

Hello all! Weekend break, so not a lot of updates, but this is, again, a rather long chapter. I didn't manage to put the Poppy-Dorkham confrontation in this one, but I'll put it in the next chapter for sure. Enjoy!

14. Remus

According to Sirius, Gryffindor flattened Ravenclaw. According to Cynthia, Ravenclaw suffered a mild defeat. But Sirius was hugged by so many women she couldn't even make herself heard, and left him to sulk with the rest of the Ravenclaws.

"We won, we won!" James sang, swinging Lily around and slamming her legs into other people's chests, but they were all so glad to have won that they did not mind.

"And we beat them good!" Liza cheered, pounding Sam on the back. "Great beating, you! You too, Sirius! Although you almost killed Jordan…"

"Ah, he survived," Sirius shrugged, and kissed Simone on the mouth. "Oh, that wasn't the intention? Sorry. You should've held up your cheek then. Hey! Stop that!" 

Sirius ran away, chased by Simone who was waving his bat in the air.

"How does he do that?" Peter murmured jealously from the side. "If I'd do such a thing she'd have hit me a bloody nose."

Will Deveraux, who had also climbed down from the stands, grinned.

"Sorry to be blunt, Petigrew, but…you don't look like Sirius. Some people just get everything, looks and charisma and brains, and Sirius is one of them." He looked at Lily, and his smile faded a little.

"James is one too, for that matter."

"Yeah. It's too bad he's so nice. It'd be much easier to hate him if he weren't so bloody nice."

"You hate him with difficulty?" Peter smiled, a little sadly.

"No, I don't hate him at all. He's my best friend. I'm just not so sure I'm his best friend too." Will shrugged.

"At least you're part of the Marauders." Surprised, Peter turned to face him.

"Are you jealous?"

"Jealous? No…a little envious of your friendship, perhaps, but jealous…no. I've got Emily. We've always been together and we can almost read each other's minds. But…to have friends like that…I love Emmy, and she knows all my secrets, but she's still my sister, you know?"

Peter nodded, although in fact, he did not understand at all. The mere thought of telling your sister all your secrets made him wince; he had one older sister, and she had traumatized him for life. He still thanked heaven that she'd moved out and got herself some offspring to keep her busy.

"Life's hard," he said philosophically, and Will nodded gravely.

"Very. As hard as the bat Simone just hit on Sirius's head. Sometimes I think the man's masochist."

"You think?" Peter sneered. "He's as masochistic as they come! I swear, if a week passes without him ending up in the infirmary, he starts sticking knives into his legs, just to see how much pain he can take without passing out." Will pulled a face.

"Yech. That's sick. He really did that?"

"No, not exactly…" he grinned. "Although he did come pretty close when we were staying at Remus's house during the Easter Holiday. They had a vampire…"

"I really don't want to know," said Will hastily. "But speaking of Remus, where is he? I thought I saw him when we started."

"He went back to the castle. Said he felt ill."

"Ah. Well, not much of a surprise with this weather. Half of the school's been to see Madam Pomfrey for pepper-up and cough drops. If you see him before I do, tell him to ask her for honey drops. They're really good. I faked a cold twice to get them.

Ah, they're finally finished with the smooches.

"Hey James! Good catch!"

"Wasn't it?" James said proudly. "I actually surprised myself! And man, I'm hungry! I could eat a horse. I think I'll just skip my shower and…"

"No, you won't." Lily said.

"I think I'll just have a quick shower," James amended, "and then try to bribe the house elves into making me some sandwiches."

"If you wait two hours, you can…"

"I can't wait for two more hours! I didn't eat a thing this morning. I'll faint and die. Horribly. So, if you don't mind, I'll go change now. Why don't you check out the common room, see what they're up to. I'm sure we're having a party tonight." 

"Okay!" Peter, Will and a few other bystanders ran back to the castle, while the Gryffindor Quidditch Team went to put their gear in their lockers and shower.

"Oy, boys!" Liza called after Sam, Gildford, James and Sirius as they walked into their side of the showers. She grinned. "GOOD work!"

"At your service, my lady," James bowed, and the other boys followed his lead.

"Can we have a reward now?" Sam asked. "Such as a weekend of late-sleeping?" Liza raised her eyebrows.

"What? Sleeping your time away? With the match against Slytherin in two months? I don't think so! Have a nice shower! Bye!" She disappeared, leaving the four boys staring despondently after her.

"Ah well," Sirius sighed, unfastening his Quidditch robes. "It was a good try."

"You can't win them all," Gildford agreed. He grabbed a towel. "Though I could've done with a good long sleep…"

"She's a slave driver. I'll never get my OWLs if she keeps this up."

"But, she'll be gone next year."

"Which is a pity. She's a good captain."

"But think of all the sleep we'll be getting!" James grinned. He whacked his towel at Sirius's bare rump, causing his friend to squeak with pain.

"No more talk of sleeping! Get your ass beneath that shower and hurry up, before I starve and bite your leg."

"I'd like to see you try," Sirius said benevolently, and flexed his biceps. But he ducked beneath the water stream when James reached for his wand, and laughed. "Pitiful, James my boy! Reverting to magic. Coward!"

"Be still, Padfoot, or I'll send one of my cakes on you!"

"Nooo! Mercy!"

Ten minutes later, they picked up the girls and ran back to the castle, their robes and shawls streaming in the wind.

The common room had been transformed into a sea of red and yellow; when James and Sirius entered through the portrait hole all they saw were yellow lions on red banners, crimson serpentines curling around gold-charmed pillars and chairs, yellow and red lights, flags and ribbons—even Lily's hair was red, James commented, and she stuck out her tongue at him.

The cuddle fest started anew, as all the Gryffindors expressed their joy at winning, and then corks flew, glasses tinkled and they all toasted with butter beer.

"But I'm sure we can find something stronger when the little ones are off to bed," Sirius whispered. A first year gave him an ugly stare. Sirius frowned.

"God, but you're ugly. Please look at someone else, will ya?" The first year stomped away. Lily giggled.

"You're so subtle, Sirius."

"My middle name. Subtle. Sirius Subtle Black."

"Sounds awful," found Emily Endale. "SSB. Congratulations, by the way. You were very good. You too, Lily. Especially that third goal was just marvellous!"

"Thanks," Lily said, but Sirius pressed his hands to his heart.

"Did…" he whispered, "Did you just give me a compliment?"

"Never mind," she said, but she gave him a smile before walking away. Lily shook her head.

"Why d'you keep winding her up? Don't you like her?"

"I'm mad about her. But she deserves a little teasing.

"Yo, Peter! Have you seen Moony?"

"Yes," Lily realised, "I haven't seen him since breakfast. Where is he?" Peter shrugged, and handed both of them a bottle of butter beer.

"Dunno. Upstairs, I think. He wasn't feeling all to well, so he went back to the castle during the game."

"He did what?"

"But that's treason!" Sirius exclaimed. "Desertion!" He stood up. "I'll go get him. Where'd James go? Is that him? No. Oh, never mind, I'll go alone. Be back in a sec." 

With a few long strides he had crossed the common room, and hopped up the stairs, holding his thumb on the bottle of butter beer to keep it from foaming.

            Their dormitory was filled with cool afternoon light; Remus had not drawn the curtains. But he was there, a large lump beneath his blankets. Sirius sneaked towards the bed on feet as silent as a cat's, and peered at the mop of light brown hair appearing miraculously out of the bed spread-covered lump.

"Moony?" he hissed. "Are you awake?" The lump moved.

"Mmm?"

"We won."

"Oh." The lump turned into Lupin as he sat up and rubbed his eyes. "What time is it?" 

"Almost five. How're you doing? Peter said you didn't feel well."

"Yeah…" He gave a tired smile. "Sorry. I'd liked to have seen the game, but my head felt like someone was pelting it with Bludgers, so I went to bed. But you won? That's great. By how much?"

"Three hundred and ten to one hundred and twenty."

"Wow. Ravenclaw scored twelve times?"

"Yeah, they were really good. Simone keeps forgetting she's our Keeper, not a Chaser. But we were better. Care for a butter beer?"

"Thanks." He accepted the bottle, pressed it against his forehead. Sirius frowned.

"Are you coming down?" Remus took a tentative sip, and leaned back in his pillows.

"No. I don't think so."

"You're that sick?" A shrug.

"Not really sick. Just…tired. Not up to a wild party. Sorry."

"D'you want to have one of my painkillers? I've got a few left from that time I got hit by the Whomping Willow." Remus's eyes brightened in a way Sirius found a little worrisome.

"Sure! Yeah, that would be great."

"Or maybe you should go and see Madam Pomfrey…" Lupin shook his head.

"Hell no. I'll be fine if you give me a painkiller. Just so I can sleep. I'll be just fine when I get a little bit of sleep."

"You were asleep when I came in," Sirius said, studying his friend with growing anxiety. What on earth's the matter with him? He never paid much attention to the appearance of his male friends, but now he thought that Remus's eyes were a little too bright to be healthy.

"Are you…"

"For God's sake, Sirius," Remus said, exasperated, "I'm not dying, you know. I caught a cold, that's all. Soon as my healing system's shook off Dorkham's potion I'll be perfectly alright." He began to cough, a painful, unpleasant sound.

"If you say so…" Sirius muttered, unconvinced. But he opened his trunk, rummaged around and finally found a small bottle with three pills in it. "Here. You should take 'm with water, but I think you can take them with butter beer as well."

"How many can I take without overdosing?" A silver flash appeared in Sirius's mind, and with it came a picture he had been trying to forget for the past three days. He winced.

"One, Moony. Only one." He shook out one pill and put the bottle into his pocket. Remus smiled.

"Don't trust me all of a sudden?"

"Not while you're hounding me for painkillers. Here. Take it. They taste vile, but they do help." Remus nodded, and swallowed the pill with some beer. He pulled a face.

"Eeew."

"Told you so."

"Yeah. D'you know whether Hagrid attended the game? No, I haven't seen him either. How's Cynthia taking the loss?"

"I haven't seen her since breakfast. I might go and pay her a visit later, after dinner. She's bound to've regained her usual good humour. I hope." He grinned. Remus grinned back.

"She'll probably tell you to put your broom where the Snitch don't shine, if you try anything with her." 

"Oh," Sirius waved airily, "If she's angry I'll just pretend to have strained something.

"How about you? Need anything else? Shall I call you for dinner?" Remus hefted his bottle.

"No thanks. I've got this one."

He doesn't want to eat??? Moony?

"Remus, are you sure I don't have to go get Madam Pomfrey?" His friend closed his eyes and heaved a long-suffering sigh, that lost most of its effect when it ended in another coughing fit.

"Ahh…" he glared threateningly, rubbing his eyes again. "If you ask me again I'll throw this bottle against you head. I mean it, Padfoot. Stop mothering me. I never fuss over you when you break something either, do I? Now go back to your party. Tell them I said hi." Sirius shrugged his shoulders.

"Okay…"

"Good. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Okay. Are you…never mind. If you want more beer, you know where to get it."

"Cheers."

"See you!" And Sirius jumped away again, frowning slightly, but unwilling to get on Remus's bad side. He had only seen him lose his temper three times: once only three days ago, with Peter; once with Snape, which had ended with Snape dangling from Remus's fists outside the top window of the astronomy tower; and once with him, Sirius himself. It had cost him three broken ribs and a dislocated jaw, and a week long of guilt-plagued Remus begging for forgiveness. Remus was as calm and gentle a boy as he'd ever seen, but when he finally decided he'd had enough, he could do some serious damage. Better leave him to his own devices.

Downstairs, the party was well underway. At the bottom of the stairs he almost ran into James, who'd obviously had the same idea as he had.

"Hey. Where's Moony? Isn't he upstairs?"

"He is. He doesn't want to come down. But he said hi."

"He said hi? I don't want a hi! Why isn't he coming down? Is he still sick?"

"He might be. But I wish you luck if you try to get him to the infirmary. He says it's an ordinary flu-"

"He never gets colds."

"Well, this time he did. He thinks it's because of the potion."

"Shouldn't if have worn off by now?" Sirius pushed his hands into his pockets, something he always did when he was feeling uneasy.

"That's what I said. But he's made up his mind, so…"

"Does he have a fever?"

"How should I know? He might have. But he was rational enough, so it can't have been high if he did have a fever."

"Maybe we should send Lily…"

"Do you enjoy your girlfriend with all her fingers intact? Cause he won't take kindly to her tut-ing over him. Neither would I, by the way. 

"Come on, James, stop behaving like a distraught mother. You're scaring me. Moony'll be fine, and I'm in need of a new beer."

Apart from the Team, none of the Gryffindors ate much during dinner, having gorged themselves on chocolate frogs, pumpkin pasties, cauldron cakes, cow drops and every flavour beans. After dinner, they went straight back to their party in the common room, blissfully ignoring any waiting homework, and unpacked more drinks and candies. 

Sirius did not join them, going after Cynthia instead.

"But I'm sure he'll have to pretend to be very ill indeed if he wants to get some affection," Peter said happily. "I've never seen her look so sour before."

Lily, after hearing that Remus was ill, tiptoed into the boys' dormitory, but when she found him fast asleep, did not disturb him. It amazed her that he could sleep so soundly with all the noise downstairs, but then, most boys she knew would sleep through earth-shattering thunder storms without even blinking. 

James did. 

She carefully closed the door behind her, and went back to the common room.

The party officially lasted until eleven, when McGonagall herself came knocking on the portrait to tell them to go to bed. The first and second years were forced up the stairs to their dormitories by their Prefects and Head Boys and Girls, and the fourth, fifth, sixth and seventh years stayed in the common room, hushed their voices, and opened a bottle of Dragon wine. At twelve, McGonagall entered the portrait hole and told them in no uncertain words that they would all get detention if they did not go to bed straight away.

So when the great clock near the hearth chimed one, the remaining pupils hid the empty liquor bottles behind the pillows on the sofa, fished their pets out of left-over food bags, gathered said bags together and threw them in the dust bin, and climbed the stairs just as McGonagall wondered whether she had to burst in again. One yawning Head Boy remained downstairs for a few minutes longer to extinguish the fire and blow out the candles, then stumbled to his own room. A few house elves appeared to clean up the crumbs and take the bottles away, leaving the common room as unexciting and cosy as usual. When they were gone, everything was dark and quiet—apart from one small squeak, as Luncheon scrabbled from beneath the sofa to another chair to nibble on a forgotten crumb of cake.

James had been asleep for a few minutes when a sudden flap of a blanket and then the sound of running bare feet woke him up. He sat up, blinking sleepily, and looked around. It was very dark in their room; the moon was nothing more than a thin slice, providing almost no light at all through the curtains, and all he saw were hazy shapes. He reached for his glasses.

Sirius's bed beside him was still empty—lucky Sirius. Peter and Will were snoring softly; apparently he was the only one who'd woken. But Remus's bed was empty, the covers thrown back from his mattress and onto the floor.

Where'd he go? Bathroom, probably.

He lay back down, but kept his glasses on, a faint sense of disquiet in his stomach.

Come on, Prongs, Moony's got the right to go to the bathroom, just like everybody else.

But as he lay there waiting, listening to his alarm clock ticking away the seconds, his uneasiness grew, until finally, ten minutes after he had woken, he decided to go and see what his friend was up to. He might've slipped…fallen or something. Or…

Quickly shrugging into his school robes, he slipped into his Nikes, leaving the laces untied, and felt for his wand. It was secure in an inner pocket. Making sure that he did not bump into any beds, he shuffled to the door, lit his wand. Its dim light cast strange shadows on the wall. He did not see any other source of light.

Then he heard a toilet flush.

Oh great. He'll kill me if he finds me.

But nevertheless he kept standing there at the top of the stairs, holding out his wand like a torch. Might just as well wait for him to come back. Still no light…did he forget his wand or something? He shivered. Come on, Moony. It's cold.

But nobody came. James waited for another two minutes, counting each second, then slowly began to walk down the stairs. He passed the passage to the girls' dormitories, then the bathroom the first, second and third years used. It was dark, and he had almost reached the other bathroom when he thought he heard something. Not in the Upper classes bathroom. He went back a few steps.

"Moony?" Opening the half-closed door a little further he looked inside, and almost yelped as two bright lights blinked back at him. Remus's eyes. He went inside and flicked on the light.

"Oowww!" Remus moaned, and shielded his eyes with his hands. "Turn it off!"

He was kneeling in front of one of the toilets, one arm resting on the seat, one arm raised against the light, head drooping on his shoulder. In the cool glow-ball light, his face was pasty white, with dark shadows beneath his eyes.

"Christ, Remus, what are you doing here? Are you alright?" Rather stupid questions, James realised, and shut his mouth. But Remus smiled, be it faintly.

"Me? I'm getting…reacquainted with this toilet seat. C-could you please…turn off the light?"

"Yeah, sure, okay." He held up his wand instead. Remus talked rather as if he were drunk, drawing out the words as if they were made of chewing gum. "Can I…help you, or something?" Remus slowly shook his head.

"No…I don't think so. Oh hell, here it comes again…" He clenched one arm against his stomach, bracing the other against the wall, and threw up. James looked away, embarrassed, and waited until he had stopped gagging.

"Ooh…oh damn it…" Remus panted, flushed, and dropped back to his half-reclining position. "This…s-sucks." His teeth were chattering so hard James could hear it clearly on the other side of the room. He only wore his pj's, not even slippers, and his arms were dappled with goose bumps.

"Are you finished? We'd better get you back to bed. You must be freezing." Remus shocked his shoulders.

"Don't know…I think my stomach's empty now, so…but…" He gasped, curled up around his belly, his fingers digging into the smooth porcelain of the toilet. "Oww…oww…."

"I'll get Madam Pomfrey," James said, and would have run away if Remus had not called him back. 

"No! Wait! Wait. I'm fine. I will b-be fine. Don't call her." James walked back, squatted down next to him, examining him by the steady soft light of his wand.

"You're puking your guts out. You're not fine, Remus."

"All I have is a b-bloody flu!" Remus all but sobbed. "Why can't I be ill just like everybody else without everybody wanting to lock me up and feed me potions? I don't want any p-potions! And I don't want to go to the infirmary! Why can't you just leave me alone!" James's concern went up a few notches.

"Calm down. I won't get her, if you don't want to."

"I don't." the other boy said, a little less panicky. "I don't…" He shivered. James took off his robes and draped them over Remus's shoulders.

"What you do have to do, is go back to bed. Don't sit in drafty places when you're ill. Lily's wisdom."

"I might be sick again." murmured Remus, leaning his forehead against the seat.

"You can be sick in my dust bin. Come on. Have some water. Here." He filled a glass, gave it to Remus, who took it with a shaky hand. His teeth chattered against the glass as he drank, then spat out the water and drank some more. He managed to stand up and refill it on his own, and emptied that one as well. Litres and litres of water went down his throat, as if he were a sponge. He also washed his face, leaning heavily on the sink. All his movements, James noticed, were slow and purposeful, unlike his ordinary easy manner which bordered on nonchalance, and his eyes kept fallen closed. He looked ready to fall asleep standing up, his wet bangs plastered against his forehead, his right side propped up against the wall.

"Are you finished?" A faint nod.

"Yeah."

"Come on, then." 

He had to physically pull Remus along to get him up the stairs, not because his friend was struggling but simply because he kept forgetting to place one foot in front of the other, and stumbled over every step. When they finally reached their room, he crept into his bed, blindly reached for his covers and curled into a tiny ball. James searched for his dustbin and casually emptied it in Peter's, which overflowed. He placed it next to Lupin's bed.

"Here's my bin. If you get sick, try to aim for the centre."

"'kay." Remus mumbled, already half asleep.

"Are you sure…"

"Yes."

"Right then. Sleep well."

"Same to you." 

Sitting down on his bed, James dropped his shoes beside his bed (Remus still had his robes, he noticed absentmindedly), put his glasses on the table and burrowed beneath the blankets. He lay awake for some time, straining to hear anything from Remus and resolved to warn Madam Pomfrey if he were sick again, and Remus's protests be damned, but all remained quiet. And because he was very tired himself, he drifted off in the end.

He dreamt of searching, one of those dreams that left him with an unpleasant feeling of discontent because he never found what he was looking for. In most of those dreams he did not even know what he was searching, but this time he thought it might be a small animal, like a puppy or a kitten, for he could hear it whimpering in the distance.

Someone shook him.

"Where is it, then?" James asked, still half in his dream. "I can't see it anywhere…"

"Wake up," the someone said, and turned into Sirius as James passed from sleep into waking.

"I think we may have a problem."

"Sirius?" he tried to shake the sleep from his head. "Man, where've you been all this time?"

"Make an educated guess. I just got back. We may have a problem."

"What?" He pointed a thumb at the bed on the other side. Only then James became aware that the whimpering he had heard in his dream was still going on now, and he cursed softly.

"Moony." Sirius nodded.

"At first I thought he was only dreaming, but when I tried to wake him up he didn't react at all," he said, following James back to their friend's bed. "Has he been like this all night?"

"No." James said, looking down on the tightly balled up body, "Not like this."

Remus was lying on his side, blankets pulled up to his ears, hands wrapped closely around his waist. He was breathing very fast and shallowly, and every breath ended in a tiny moan.

"But he was sick, really pretty sick." He reached inside the blankets until he touched flesh, and there was real panic in his eyes as he looked back at Sirius.

"He's burning up. I can hardly touch him—damn it, Sirius, what's wrong with him? You can't tell me that a potion's after effects can make you this ill." Sirius's face was a pale circle in the sparse light from his wand.

"I have a theory…but I don't even want to think about it. Besides, no, it's impossible."

"The virus…?"

"No! No, it can't be the virus. I just won't have it." 

He shut his mouth when the subject of their anxiety moved, and shielded the boy's face from the light with his hand.

"Hey, Moony. Did I wake you?" Remus moaned.

"Wh-what are you doing here? Do we have to get up yet?"

"No." He sat down on the edge of the bed, handing his wand to James. "I thought you were having a nightmare. How're you feeling?" Remus gave him a thin smile. He was still breathing too fast, and his voice went up and down as he talked, as if it were still breaking.

"I feel…weird. I thought I was in the Forest. Changing. It's not full moon yet, is it? Is it?" His eyes widened, reflecting green in the sparse light as he sat up and stared at the window. He pressed the fingers of his right hand against his temple, holding his other hand beneath the blankets, on his stomach. "I can't see a thing. What time is it? Why are you two awake? Did I miss something?"

"Calm down—damn, he's right, you're burning up." Sirius moved his hand from Remus's shoulder, where he had patted him, to the boy's cheek. He exhaled, then nodded.

"Okay. I'm sorry, but I refuse to buy your flu-excuse anymore. James, will you get her or shall I go?"

"I'll go." He handed Sirius his wand back.

"No!" Remus cried, and Peter gave a loud snort without waking up. "No. No. I don't want you to go and get her. I'll be fine. Don't you see I'll be fine?"

"Go," Sirius nodded, preparing to hold Lupin down if needs be, but he wasn't prepared for the violent shove that made him crash into a poster.

"Nooo!" shrieked Remus, jumping out of bed and making for the door. "I won't have her tie me up again. I won't have it!"

"Moony! Calm down!" James reached out for him, "She won't tie you up. Now please calm down and…Remus!" His friend had opened the door and bolted away.

"Stop!"

"Get him!" Sirius hissed, staggering to his feet, and James ran after him.

Remus could be incredibly fast, if he wanted to. And now he wanted to be fast. If he had been completely in control of himself, he would have outrun James by a hundred yards, but as it was, he stumbled a few times, and that enabled James to catch up with him before he had gotten out of the portrait hole.

"Remus! Cut it out! We're not going to hurt you! It's for your own good."

"For my own…good?!" his friend spat, inching towards the portrait. "That's rich. My own good…she'll lock me up…tether me… I know… More potions. But I won't have it, you hear me!" James sighed.

"But where do you want to go then, Remus? You can't go to the Forest…" And Remus laughed.

"Why not?" he coughed. "I've already got the virus. I'm a magical creature."

"Moony…"

"STOP CALLING ME MOONY! I'm not him!"

"You haven't got the virus! You haven't been in the Forest for more than a month!"

"Then why…!" He began to cough again, so hard, this time, that the spasms bent his whole body double. James took a quick step forward.

"Get BACK!" Remus snarled. "I won't go to the infirmary. I won't! I'd die in there."

"Remus…" His friend's thin fingers curled around the handle that released the portrait. "Remus, wait!"

"Stupefy!"

A thin blue bolt flew past his neck, straight into Remus's chest. He crumpled to the ground in a dead faint. James looked behind him, shocked, and saw Sirius stand at the bottom of the stairs, slowly dropping his outstretched hand.

"Christ, Sirius…"

"I didn't know what else to do. He's raving. He'll hurt himself. Or," dryly, "other people." He touched his left eyebrow, then wiped his hand on his sweater. "Is he okay?" Kneeling down, James gently rolled Remus's limp form on his back.

"He's breathing, and…give me a bit more light, will ya…Jeez, he looks terrible." Sirius nodded. A small trickle of blood ran down his own cheek, and he dabbed at it with his sleeve.

"He didn't look this bad when I saw him in the afternoon. Whatever he's got, poison, flu…I don't know, but it's growing worse by the hour."

"We have to get him in the infirmary as soon as possible." James agreed. "What d'you think, can you carry him, or shall I call Madam Pomfrey here?"

"Too slow. We've got him downstairs already, might just as well take him ourselves. I can carry him, I did it before. He can't've gained much weight."

"Okay." James opened the portrait, careful not to wake the Fat Lady, and held it open so Sirius could climb through. A moment later they were on the ground floor.

Even though Remus was thin, he was heavy, much heaver, Sirius thought, than he had been when he had broken his leg last year, and Sirius had carried him back to the castle. But then he had been conscious. When consciousness went, Lily had informed them, gravity kicked in double. At the time he'd thought she'd been nuts, but now, he wasn't so sure anymore. His arms hurt, and his thighs were protesting, just like his back. Of course he could just hoist Remus over his shoulder, but…

"I have to…stop for a while," he said.

"He's too heavy?"

"Care to carry him yourself?" James smiled faintly.

"I know I can't, not for more than a few metres. But I know something. Um, what was it again…"

"Another spell?"

"It won't hurt him. Yes, that's it, I think…Mobilicorpus." Remus's body rose in the air, as if suspended from invisible threads tied at shoulders, elbows and neck. Sirius winced.

"No…god, that looks awful. Can I touch him without breaking the spell?"

"I think so." Slipping his arms first beneath his friend's shoulders, then beneath his knees as well, he lifted him again, and nodded.

"Okay, I can carry him for a mile if needs be. Damn, how can he be so hot, James? How could he still be awake with such a fever?"

"I don't know," James replied quietly. "Maybe it's a belated reaction to the potion."

"That's not what he thought…"

"But, like you said, it's impossible he's infected. He…what's that?"

"Didn't hear a thing."

"I did. Could be Filch, or his cat…"

"Let 'm come," Sirius growled. "We've got every right to be here. Besides, what's he think he can do to us? Everybody knows he's a Squib. Or at least, I do. He threatens us, I blackmail him. It's that easy."

Whether Filch had heard him and had wisely decided to stay away from them, or the noise James'd heard had been some other adventurous student they would never know, but no one stopped them as they made their way to the infirmary. It felt a bit eerie, James thought, to walk here without his Invisibility Cloak, and he couldn't help being a little jumpy. It was a lot less fun to sneak around when you had serious business than when you knew you were breaking the rules.

Madam Pomfrey's office, located in the middle of the infirmary, where she slept, was dark when they arrived. The infirmary itself was dimly lit, with one single candle in every corner. Several of the beds were occupied by those who suffered from a case of the flu or a cold a simple potion could not cure, but they were all sound asleep.

"We'll take him to her office," James whispered. "She always keeps him in that little room on the other side of her office. The ICU. The state he's in, she'll most likely want to keep him there this time as well." Sirius nodded his assent.

Upon their soft knock, a light appeared behind the thin curtains, and a moment later Poppy Pomfrey opened her door. She wore a plain white night gown, and had her long hair tied in pigtails.

"Yes? Oh, James…not again!"

"I've done nothing," James whispered, offended. "It's Remus. He's sick." He stepped aside to make room for Sirius with his charge, and the nurse inhaled sharply.

"What happened?"

"I stupefied him," Sirius said. Motioned in, he carried Remus inside, then through the office to the small room and to the bed. "He went completely nuts. And James mobilised him, so I could carry him.

"Wait! Don't break them yet! He's…he's violent." She glanced at the side of his face, where a black bruise was swelling above his eyebrow and a bit of dried blood stuck to his skin.

"He did that?"

"Hm? Oh, yeah. But it's nothing. Madam Pomfrey…" He looked at her, and his eyes seemed to flash silver for a second, "He's so hot. And…he's never been ill…but he's a magical creature…"

Madam Pomfrey nodded briskly. She laid a professional hand on head and chest, pursed her lips.

"I know. But it can't be the virus. Rest assured of that, mister Black. Now, you said he was sick. Did you only mean the fever, or?"

"No, he's been sick too," James said softly. "And he's been complaining of a headache ever since he Changed—ever since he drank Dorkham's potion!" She shook her head, once.

"Do you know whether he's been eating?"

"Not this morning." Sirius recalled. "Nor anytime later I know of. I…I gave him one of my painkillers, but…"

"That shouldn't have harmed him." She assured him. "If he'd have come to me for a headache I'd have given them to him as well." She sighed.

"All right. I'll break the spells now. Maybe it would be better if you two boys went back to your room."

"Hm." They both made a noncommittal sound, and retreated to one side of the room, but they did not leave. Madam Pomfrey smiled.

"Finite incantatum." Remus's arms, which had been hanging in the air all this time, dropped to the mattress. He moaned a little, curling up on his side, then suddenly opened his eyes. They flashed to the surroundings, to the woman sitting next to him, grew wider.

"Nooo…."

"Remus," Madam Pomfrey said soothingly. And he began to cry.

"I don't…want to…go to the shack…" he whimpered, pulling away from her. "I can't help…I can't help that…I'm…a werewolf. I can't help I…can't…control him…But I can try…I can t-try to…just as long as…you don't tie me up again, I can try…" and then, seeing the two Marauders staring at him with wide, anxious eyes, he burst out, "Traitors! T-traitors! All this talk of…friendship! I hate you! I…" He began to cough.

"Remus," Sirius began, pleadingly, but Madam Pomfrey stopped him with a gesture.

"Go back to bed. No, Sirius, go. You're not helping him. Go to bed. You too, James. Come back tomorrow.

"Calm down, love, take it easy. I'm not going to lock you up, or tether you. But you're very ill, and this is the best place you can be."

Sirius was staring. He knew he should go, but he was magnetised by the sight of one of his best friends hunched over on that bed, coughing as if he would give up his lungs, and the woman supporting him, rubbing his back. Sirius's mind was silver.

He's dying. He's dying, and it's my fault, and he'll thrust me away when I try to help him… and he'll only be the first of them all, they will all die, and it will all be my fault…

James shook him.

"Come on," he said hoarsely. "We've got to go. She's right, we're not helping him."

"I know." Sirius said, forcefully shaking his head to clear the silver away. "I know…"

But I'm so afraid he'll die when I go away…

"It's only because of the fever," he murmured softly and, pushing his fists into his pockets, let himself be dragged away by James.

It can't be the virus. It can't be. The Mirror was lying.

It was LYING!

To be continued…

Next chapter: Madam Pomfrey confronts Dorkham, Sirius reads the paper. If possible, James visits Remus. Might be the next chapter. : )


	15. VIRUS 15

Okay, I lied again about what happens in this chapter, last chapter. But there were a few things I just had to mention, and now this chapter's gotten so large I couldn't add all I wanted. But rest assured, in the end, all will work out. Oh, there is one thing I wanted to tell, but forgot all the time. There's this site, it's a Japanese site, and a little difficult to navigate, but it holds the cutest Marauder pics ever. Manga style, of course. In the beginning, I didn't like that style for HP subjects, but I do like So Mauo's pics. You can find her site at 

http://www.kdn.ne.jp/~mauo/garden.html. Chose the Harry Potter link and try to find the Azukaban pics. They're really cute. Good, on with the story. More Remus torture. Yes, Pie, I adore hurting him! And KateMarie, you will be in kinda heaven for some time, cause I have no intention of letting anyone find a cure before I've worked on the plot (evil grin). As for Sirius, don't worry about him either. I have some nasty surprises for him too…: )

Again, thanks for the reviews, also to those I haven't reacted to. I'll keep writing. Here's chapter fifteen!

15. Virus.

It took a long time before Remus stopped coughing, and when the spasms finally relented, he was unable to do anything else than lean against Madam Pomfrey's ample bosom and pant for air. On different occasions he would have seen the humour in the whole situation, but at the moment he was too ill to even recognise its humour.

"Remus."

"Uhm?" A soft hand pressed against his hot forehead. He wished her hand were colder.

"I need you to tell me a few things, so I can help you." He nodded without opening his eyes. This last coughing fit had worn him out so much he did not even have the strength to be afraid anymore.

"Okay…"

"Where do you hurt? Just your head?"

"No…stomach as well."

"And you had to vomit?" A nod. "Did you feel better afterwards?" Again a nod. She peeled him away from her chest, eased him down into the pillow. Immediately he rolled to his side, pulled up his legs, turning into a ball.

"Don't go to sleep yet, love," she urged. "Are you still nauseous?"

"Yeah…" Remus murmured. "Just not so…bad. I think the water helped."

"You didn't eat anything today?"

"No…little toast in the morning. Scent made me feel sick." He opened one light brown and grey eye. "Can I go back to sleep now?"

"Just a minute, love. Sirius told me he gave you a painkiller."

"Yeah…?"

"Did it help?" He shrugged.

"A little. It made me sleep."

"Good. I'll give you another one right now. And something to bring down your fever. And I'm afraid I'll have to listen to your chest, but…first the pill." She left him to fetch a glass of water and a pill, and when she came back she brought a washing cloth and a basin with her as well.

"Here," she said, laying the cloth on his forehead. "I'm afraid it'll soon lose its chill, but until it does it can cool you down a bit. Now, where did I put that draught…"

"No more potions," Remus whispered. "I don't trust them."

"This potion will only make you feel better. You've had it before, when you were smaller. Look, I understand you distrust potions after the Lycanthropotion, but this one will make you better. And if you refuse to drink it when you're awake, I'll feed it to you when you sleep, get it?"

"Yessir…" Remus muttered pitifully, and she almost felt guilty.

"But you can take the pill first. It should ease the pain in your stomach as well. Here, lean on my arm."

"I can take it by myself." he said, but she still bore most of his weight as he swallowed the pill with a few mouthfuls of water.

"Alright. Now, lay down, so I can listen to your chest." She fished a stethoscope out of a drawer, warmed the receiver by rubbing it against her nightgown. Nevertheless, the boy shivered when she placed it on his chest.

Lungs. That doesn't sound too bad. Or wait. No, this one doesn't sound well at all. I can hear it bubbling…Is that it? A bad case of pneumonia? But werewolves are immune to infections. Unless…I think Dorkham and I need to have a word, together!

Heart…sounds good.

She took the thing away, deftly fastened the buttons on the boy's pyjama top and smiled down on him.

You poor boy.

"I think it's nothing to worry about," she lied easily. "A slight case of pneumonia. You'll be fine in a few days."

"You're lying."

"What on earth makes you think that?" He opened his eyes. They were dilated with fever and pain.

"I can smell it. And feel it. I've never been ill since I was bitten. And I've seen Hagrid's Trotters. One of the symptoms is coughing. And fever."

"Those are also symptoms of pneumonia. Besides, you haven't been in the Forest the past month, have you? Nor seen Hagrid or come into contact with one of the animals. Well then, it's simply impossible for you to have been contaminated."

"But then why…?" She sighed.

"I am very much afraid that the blame lies with Professor Dorkham's potion. I will…what is it? Do you feel sick?" She shoved the basin beneath his chin as he sat up and began to retch, using her other hand to keep his hair out of his face. Of course, almost nothing came out, just a bit of water, and most likely the painkiller.

"Ohhh…" Remus whimpered, when he was finally finished, "I want to go home…" Madam Pomfrey dabbed at his face with the washing cloth, wincing as she felt it heat up in her hand.

This doesn't work. He needs to sleep, or have it administered intravenously. And that fever needs to go down!

Making sure he was well-covered, she left him for a moment to find the carafe with Sleeping Draught, and poured him a small glass.

"Drink this."

"It'll come out again."

"No, it won't. It will make you sleep. Just sleep, Remus, nothing else. You body is less likely to repel medication when you're asleep. Just drink it. It won't harm you."

"I've had it before, right?" Without further protest, he quaffed the potion, then lay down again.

Madam Pomfrey repressed the urge to pull him onto her lap and hold him, as she would have done had he been younger. It was one of the difficulties when one was a nurse at school; the children grew into young adults, and Remus was very nearly that. Children, you could read stories to, hug when they were in pain, and appease with candy. With adolescents it was a different matter.

So she merely sat next to him, occasionally pressing a cold cloth (a new one) to his forehead, and talked nonsense to him to calm him down. He fought the potion, like he instinctively fought every influence on his body from outside, but the illness had already worn him out so much there was not much energy left to fight.

"You'll see, you'll be fine in a few days. You won't hardly have to miss any classes. I'll go and talk to Professor Dorkham, to Valentine, and tell him just what I think of him. But his potion won't harm you. You'll be fine.

You were not feeling very well during the Match yesterday, were you? Well, I'll make sure you won't miss the next Match.

"Are you still awake?" 

He did not reply, but for certainty, she waited a few more minutes, leaving the moist cloth lying on the bed table as to not to wake him with her touch. He certainly did seem to be asleep, in that heavy, sedated kind of way that came with a sleeping draught. The fever moved him, slowly, causing his head to roll on the pillow, searching for a piece that had not warmed up yet.

Good. Now, as for Dorkham…Madam Pomfrey walked to the large filing cabinet in her office, opened a drawer, and took out a small syringe. Best take it now, with only the Sleeping Draught in his blood.

She took one of the boy's thin arms, inserted the needle and drew out a few centilitres of blood, healing the puncture wound with a spell. Placing the vial of blood on the table, she then picked a bottle from the cabinet, poured out a spoonful, and dripped it into Remus's mouth. He swallowed automatically.

Best leave it like this. He's sleeping now, and the p.k.'s would only interfere with the Cooling potion.  

Deciding it improbable that he would vomit again, she walked back to her office, donned her robes over her night gown, picked up the vial of blood and strode out of the infirmary, through the halls, and down the stairs to the dungeons.

Although he had been offered a bedroom in the upper part of the castle, Dorkham had chosen to stay in the dungeons even at night. Madam Pomfrey took a sadistic delight in the idea that he would have to crawl out of his warm bed and walk through the icy room (no amount of fire could drive the chill out of the dungeons) to answer her insistent knocking. For insistent she was. She had been knocking for almost a minute non-stop now, listening to the satisfyingly loud echoes on the other side of the door, and ignoring the grumbling voice inside.

"I'm coming. I'm coming!" Poppy kept knocking.

A rattling sound as a key turned in the lock, then the door creaked as Dorkham wrenched it open.

"Good evening, Valentine," Madam Pomfrey snarled ferally. The old man (dressed, thank goodness, in his usual black robes but with his sparse hair wispy with sleep) looked up at her balefully.

"Evenin'? Do ye know what time i' is?"

"O yes, I do. I wanted to talk about your Lycanthropotion."

"At this hour?"

"Yes, Mister Dorkham, at this hour. I want to know what you put in it. I have a student, the student who has taken your potion, in my infirmary right now, and he is very ill indeed. Now I might be wrong, but it's damn coincidental that he falls ill three days after he's taken your potion, isn't it?"

"Me potion was perfect." Dorkham snapped. "Me Brother in law never 'ad a single problem wi' it."

"Your brother in law is probably fully grown, while this boy…"

"Yer won' tell me who he is? No, I wouldn't 'ave thought so."

"I want to know why he comes to be so ill after drinking your potion!" He shrugged.

"Migh' 'ave caught a cold…"

"Werewolves don't catch colds, mister Dorkham. Their immune system is…"

"Not after 'e's taken the potion, it's not." The Professor said with just a hint of satisfaction.

"It holds a very small amount of silver and wolfs bane."

"It what?"

"Silver and wolfs bane. Necessary to quell the power of the wolf. Naturally, it also drugs the immune system, which originates with the wolf. But, if ye'd let me 'ave a look at 'im…"

"I won't have you anywhere near him," Madam Pomfrey spat, and thrust the vial into his face.

"Take this. Analyse it. Come to think of it, why are you sleeping? Haven't you got a virus to cure?" Dorkham's upper lip curled into a sneer.

"A man needs his sleep. Can't take the risk I foul up, do I now? Besides, I've got assistance." Madam Pomfrey eyed him with utter disdain.

"So you go to bed. I thought wakefulness potions were your specialty? Why don't you make one for yourself? Every day, Hagrid buries ten magical animals, rare magical animals—but I guess you don't really care for them. As long as you manage to find the antidote within a year, isn't it?"

"Are you accusing me of impassiveness?" She sniffed, a clear affirmation.

"I want to know the results of the blood test tomorrow morning," she said curtly.

"But…"

"Tomorrow morning. Good night." She turned around, gathered her robes, and swept away. Dorkham cursed.

"How did she know…?" He stared at the small vial with blood as if he'd have liked to smash it against the wall, snarled and slammed the door shut behind him.

*

In the Morning, Madam Pomfrey found a small note on her desk, delivered by a student or house elf.

Analysed the boy's blood, it said in Dorkham's gnarly handwriting.

There are no traces of my potion in it at all. What I did find was an uncommonly high amount of L-cells. Analysing those, I found that they were all infected with the Forest Virus. He is infected. It has, however, nothing to do with my potion.

Dorkham.

Madam Pomfrey stared at the small scrap of paper for nearly a minute before violently tearing it up and disintegrating the pieces with a fire spell.

"You bastard! You complete…arrogant…selfish…bastard!"

A sniffling first year recoiled beneath his blankets, and she forced herself to relax. It wouldn't do to lose her temper. Especially not now she knew what was wrong with young Lupin.

O damn. Lupin. What am I going to tell him?

*

Dear Hagrid,

We still haven't heard from you, so you probably didn't get our previous message, or maybe you're just busy. Something terrible has happened. Remus has the virus. James and Sirius took him to the infirmary yesterday night. They were both pretty upset about something, but they wouldn't tell me what. Especially Sirius's behaving peculiarly. I hope he hasn't got it as well, although I don't see how that's possible. Anyway, we tried to go and visit Remus, but Madam Pomfrey said we couldn't see him, and that he had the virus. How's that possible! He hasn't been anywhere near any contaminated creatures! He hasn't even touched Render.

We're all incredibly worried about him, and now we may not even talk to him. Haven't you got some news to cheer us up? We have Potions tomorrow, but I never dare to speak to Dorkham. Do you know whether he's making any progress with the antidote? Isn't there any other wizard who can help us? They can't just let Remus die! It's not fair!

Please write us soon. We want to know how you're doing.

Love,

Lily (and undoubtedly the rest)

*

Transfiguration had never seemed to last so long before. The whole day had never seemed to last for so long. Since last week, Care of Magical Creatures had been cancelled because of the virus, but the Marauders thought it no reason for celebration. They had gone to the infirmary to ask whether they could see Remus, but Madam Pomfrey said that he was sleeping, and she did not want to disturb him. And to James's hopeful "Tonight then?" she had shook her head, and told him that they'd better not come by.

And that was that.

"Maybe he doesn't want to see us," Sirius said quietly, speaking up suddenly and startling Lily out of her concentration. The Guinea pig she'd been trying to turn into a worm squeaked as she removed all four of its feet, and she hastily transfigured them back.

"That's nonsense," she whispered back. "He'd never not want to see us."

"You didn't hear him talk, yesterday."

"Sirius, he was raving with fever. You said it yourself. People act strangely when they're hallucinating."

"I don't think he was hallucinating."

"Yes, mister Black?" McGonagall's voice interrupted his words. "Have you turned your Guinea pig into a worm?"

The Slytherins sniggered. Sirius clenched his jaws together, ready to jump and tear into the first person who dared make a comment. Self-control was not his strongest point even when he was perfectly happy; now, with too little sleep and this nagging fear in the pit of his stomach, he was very close to snapping.

"No ma'am," he said coldly. "If find it very difficult. Can I try to transfigure Snape first? He won't need much transfiguring." Snape sneered, and answered before McGonagall could:

"Try as you like, Black. I'll have you turned into the beetle you are before you can lift your wand." Sirius slowly pushed himself to his feet.

"Humour me, Snape…"

"Black! Snape!" their teacher admonished. "Stop this immediately. Five points from Gryffindor. Sit down, both of you, and go back to your subject. Now, mister Snape! Mister Black, this is my final warning. I will not have you pick a fight in class. Next time I will take you off the Quidditch Team. I've had enough of your smart Alec attitude." She stopped as Sirius lifted his perfect worm between thumb and index finger.

"I'm finished." McGonagall deflated. Suddenly, she looked very tired.

"Very good, mister Black. You can start on your homework.

"I'd like to see you after class."

"I'll be glad when this animal-to-animal transfiguration comes to and end," Peter sighed, when the bell had rung and they were all packing up. Lily agreed.

"It's cruel. The things they turn into sometimes…" She glanced at her boyfriend, who was standing close to Sirius, talking softly with him. "What's wrong with him?" she wondered, referring to Sirius. "I know he's worried about Remus, but we all are, and he doesn't usually lose his cool so quickly." Peter shrugged.

"Maybe it's got something to do with the Mirror."

"But that was more than a week ago. Well, actually four days. But still…" She smiled at James, as he joined them.

"What were you two conspiring about?" James kissed her on the cheek.

"I told him not to lose his temper. We need him with us, not polishing Quidditch cups until midnight."

"Will he be alright?" A quick glance at McGonagall, who was standing below near her desk, straight up like a soldier.

"I think so. She's always had a weak spot for him." He grinned, dimpling his cheek. "Anyway, we'd better go. He'll catch up with us later, and Professor Cactuar'll be seriously pissed off if we don't show up again."

He gave Sirius a wave, which his friend returned before hopping down the stairs to where McGonagall was standing, and wrapped his arm around Lily's waist, pulling her along with him when he walked away. Peter ran after them.

"Here I am." Sirius said defiantly, and immediately knew he had started badly. He briefly saw her animagus shape (bristling tail, narrowed slit-pupilled eyes) as McGonagall frowned at him.

"So I see. Why don't you sit down."

"I'd rather…"

"Sit down, Sirius!" He crawled into the bench closest to where she was standing. Its slight elevation and his sitting position rendered them about the same height. He could remember a time when she'd had him stand when she told him off; he'd grown a lot since he was eleven.

McGonagall took a deep breath.

"Why," she began, "do you pretend to be such a fool, Sirius?" He gaped at her.

"Huh?"

"You and James Potter are the most talented, most intelligent pupils we've ever had. And while James lives up to his promises, with the exception of a few minor incidents, you only seem intent on being…childishly mischievous."

Childishly mischievous???

"I know," she went on, "about the accident with the Mirror of Erised. It was extremely unintelligent of you to conduct experiments on a magical artefact as powerful as the Mirror—and very dangerous as well. Professor Dumbledore managed to help you this time. He might just as well not have been able, and then you would have lived the rest of your life with an irremovable curse on your eyes.

But the Mirror is only the last of your list of mistakes."

Really? Sirius thought with a certain amount of curiousness. What more have I done this semester that's worth mentioning in this reprimand?

"There was the incident of mister Goyle's hair…"

That wasn't a mistake. In fact I'm still proud of it. He's still a little russet.

"And the fact that you and mister Snape keep attacking each other…"

"That's Snape's fault, not mine!"

"You talk back to Professor Dorkham…"

"He let us drink truth serum! He let Remus drink truth serum!" McGonagall was not to be swayed.

"According to Professor Dorkham," she went on, "you've been undermining his authority ever since you came to Hogwarts." 

Sirius crossed his arms over his chest. That was true. He had hated old Dork from the moment he'd set eyes on him. McGonagall cleared her throat.

"I know he is not the easiest of men," she said softly, "but he remains your Potions teacher, Sirius, and he is very good at that subject."

"He's an asshole." Sirius retorted, not even bothering to find a euphemism. "I hate him. He hates me. We're both happy."

"But don't you see you're throwing your future away? All you do is…play. You could be number one in class if you only tried, but you don't ever try." She briefly closed her eyes, as if to steel herself for something unpleasant, then said, "I read your essay on Sunderings. Professor Dumbledore gave it to me after he had read it. You were supposed to hand it in tomorrow, isn't it?" He nodded.

"What about it? Was it that bad?" For once, he was stung. He had liked working on Sunderings, and he had truly put a lot of time and effort in it—more than he usually gave any other essay.

"No," McGonagall said. "It wasn't bad. In fact, it was the best essay I've seen in years. I'm considering taking it up in the Sundering handbook. If you agree, that is." Again, Sirius could do nothing but gape at her.

What's this all about?

"How long did it take you to write this essay?"

"How long? Um…four, maybe five hours? I don't know exactly." She nodded.

"How much time do you usually spend on your homework?"

"About an hour?"

"A day? Or a week?" He shrugged.

"Depends…"

"Why did you spend so much time on the Sundering essay?" Another shrug. He eyed her warily, unsure what to expect.

"The subject interested me," he finally said, truthfully. "I saw a Sundering, once, up close. In the sea, not captured. It was a fascinating creature. I liked doing research on it."

"So you are prepared to work, as long as the subject interests you." McGonagall summarised. 

"Yeah, I guess so."

"Does Transfiguration interest you?"

"Yes, it actually does. Why?"

"You haven't written your name on the Animagi list. That surprised me. Neither, in fact, did James, which surprised me even more. Both of you are, as you doubtlessly know, the best transfigurators I've ever seen. I'd almost say you two are naturals. I am surprised you show no inclination to chose an animagus form. If anyone could become one, it's you. You, and James Potter." A nervous twitch started where Remus had hit him against the post yesterday, and he rubbed it slowly, trying to buy time.

"Is that why you called me here?" he asked, stalling.

"No, I did not. But it does interest me. Don't you want to become an animagus?"

"No. I wanna be an Auror," he said quickly. This, at least, was true. He did want to become an Auror, just like James's parents. "Animagi, just too much trouble. They say it's kinda painful." Now, his teacher snorted.

"As far as I know, you never cared much about a little pain. Not if I can believe Madam Hooch's stories.

Which is another thing you 'take an interest in', isn't it? Quidditch. Madam Hooch says you're remarkable. In her words, 'Flies like a maniac. Death on a broom. If we didn't have rules, he'd knock all his opponents off their brooms, and then kill himself by flying into the ground.'"

"Madam Hooch said that?" Sirius asked, delighted. McGonagall almost smiled.

"She did. She thinks highly of you. Most teachers do. Unfortunately, you rarely give us reason to praise you for your results.

"You're a smart boy, Sirius. If you'd only try a little harder and not go off on foolish ramps through forbidden parts of the castle, or the Forest…" a meaningful pause, "then your marks would improve drastically."

"But why," Sirius wondered, trying to keep his words simple yet not disrespectful, "Would I want to have high marks? I'm doing fine the way I am."

"Not if you want to become an Auror." She finally abandoned her soldier stance, leaned against her desk. "This is why I called you down, today. I expected you to chose Auror-ship, or, possibly, Intermediator as a destined occupation. Just like I expect James Potter and Lily Evans to. Perhaps your friend Remus, too. But if you want to become an Auror, Sirius, you will have to improve your marks. You see, you can only apply for an Auror-training when your average mark is eight out of ten."

"What?"  Sirius cried. His average mark was not higher than 6, perhaps 7, he knew. "But…"

"Calculated over the last two years of school."

"Eight out of ten? But that's impossible. Not even Lily has such high marks, and she's the cleverest of us all!"

"She has, actually," McGonagall corrected. "She will be offered an Auror-ship the next semester. So will James Potter. And Emily Deveraux, if she's interested."

"But not me."

"Not if your marks don't improve. And you must know, Sirius, that the only way you can become an Auror is to be offered a trainee-ship. So you'd better start working."

Sirius looked mutinous and kicked his foot against the table leg.

"My Transfiguration marks are alright…"

"Yes, and so were your Defence Against the Dark Arts', Arrhythmacy and Charms', but the rest leaves something to be desired. I hope to see those marks change soon."

"Dorkham'll never give me anything higher than a six," Sirius muttered. The witch tapped her fingers on her desk.

"Then you'll just have to do the best you can. Perhaps he'll revise his opinion of you."

"Fat chance."

"Sirius…" He flung up his hands.

"Okay! Fine! I'll do my best. I don't like it, and I still think it's some kind of conspiracy to make sure I won't have any spare time left to explore the castle, but sure, I'll try." Now she did smile.

"Thank you. I'm glad we had this little talk."

"Yeah. Delighted." He stood up, swung his satchel over his shoulder and pushed his hands into his pockets.

"Professor?"

"Yes?"

"Do you…do you know whether Dorkham's found a cure for the virus yet?" The stern expression on his teacher's face softened.

"For Remus, you mean? Poppy told me he'd taken ill." He nodded. "No, not that I know. He's working on it, but…"

"Aren't there any other wizards who can help him? I mean, he can't be the only person alive who can device an antidote…"

"He's got help, if that's what you mean," McGonagall evaded. "And he's making progress daily. But it's a very powerful virus, which mutates itself as it travels from one host to another. But I don't think it will take long before he's found a cure. Don't worry about that. Worry about your homework instead. We won't let mister Lupin die that easily." And something in her face made him feel a whole lot better.

That's true, he thought. Dumbledore and McGonagall won't let him die. If Dorkham doesn't find a cure, Dumbledore will take care of it.

A tentative smile pulled up the corners of his mouth.

"Okay. I'll trust you on that, then."

"You do that. Just as I will trust you to do your best to improve your grades. I'd hate to see your talents go to waste, Sirius. Don't let me down."

"I won't." he said, and tipped an imaginary hat. "Well. I'd better go. My marks for Herbology could use a little boost as well. See you, Professor!"

"I expect to, yes," she replied dryly. But when he was gone, she smiled. And sighed.

"You're responsible for many of my grey hairs, mister Black. And I shouldn't have any at all, yet."

When Lily, James and Sirius went to Quidditch practice, Peter sauntered over to the infirmary, hoping he could persuade Madam Pomfrey to let him visit their missing Marauder member. She probably would not let him in, he thought, but he nevertheless brought a few chocolate frogs with him, as a get well gift. Maybe the sight of said frogs would melt her cold heart, and buy him a visit. 

Seeing her nowhere as he entered the infirmary, he walked to her office and knocked on the door. She did not reply, and he finally pushed the door open and looked inside. Madam Pomfrey's office was nothing more than a tiny separate room in the middle of the infirmary. It had windows on all sides, so she might keep her eyes on all her patients even while doing paperwork in her office. There were two doors, the one Peter had just opened, and one straight across from him. That one led to the ICU. On the left stood the nurse's bed and desk, both meticulously made, and on the right was a large filing cabinet. The room was empty. He stepped inside, closed the door behind him and opened the door to the ICU. And stared at Poppy's back.

Oops!

She turned around.

"Mister Petigrew?" Peter flushed red.

"Er…"

"Can I help you?"

"I…I'd like to see Remus."

"Didn't I tell you he can't have visitors?"

"But I'm here now anyway…"

"And he's finally asleep, so you can't see him." Peter tried a smile sly. It looked a little silly on his round, innocent face.

"I can see him right now." Madam Pomfrey heaved a deep sigh, but a smile tugged at her lips.

"Oh, alright. Come here. But quietly. Don't wake him." Peter gave her an indignant frown.

"Of course I'll be quiet." He took a few steps to the bed, peeked at the face half obscured by blankets. His friend seemed sound asleep, mouth half open, eyes closed, but his eyebrows and lashes were very dark against his pale skin, and his lips were colourless. Peter swallowed.

This could kill him. It killed the unicorn. It could kill him too.

He backed away to where Madam Pomfrey was standing.

"Is he…how's he doing?" She pursed her lips.

"He's doing as well as can be expected under the circumstances. So far, he's reacting well to the medication I've given him. But he is very ill, and I don't want him to get excited in any way."

"And he really does have the virus?" A nod.

"But how?"

"Let's get into my office." He followed her, and she shut the door behind him. 

"I don't know whether I'm right, but I have a theory," she continued thoughtfully. "I assume that, as a Marauder, you know…"

"That Moony's a werewolf. Yeah, I do."

"I thought so. Well, my theory is the following. Two months ago, he somehow got out of the Shack and into the Forest. The virus had just started to spread, then, and he somehow got into contact with it. I don't know in what way. He might have killed an infected rabbit, or simply picked it up from the air. I don't know. The incubation time is two to three days—for a magical animal. But that same night, he turned back into a human, and the virus could not infect his human blood. But when he changed again, he was still carrying the virus with him. And this time it had enough time to contaminate even his human cells. Or rather, it infected the L-cells in his blood."

"L-cells?"

"Lycanthrope cells. Those parts in his blood that respond to the call of the moon. The cells that make him a werewolf. They're part of his blood. Apparently those L-cells were infected, and because they never completely disappear, not even when he's human, they made him ill."

"Can't you, like, filter those cells out of his blood?" She smiled.

"No. Lycanthropy is an interesting condition. Unless one is treated within four hours after the bite, it is impossible to cure. It's not a disease, you see, Lycanthropy. It really is a curse, and once it has gotten deep enough into a human body, it cannot be removed." Peter licked his lips, thinking.

"But, if I understand correctly, Remus hasn't caught the full virus. Only his werewolf side got it, right?"

"That's right."

"So what happens if he Changes again?" Madam Pomfrey blinked quickly.

"Let's hope Professor Dorkham has found a cure before he Changes."

"He'd die, wouldn't he?" Peter said softly. "He'd die in wolf shape."

"I can't be sure."

"But you suspect it." Madam Pomfrey nodded. Slowly.

"Yes. But I won't give up on him. And I'd appreciated if you would not either. According to Hagrid, a few of the magical animals can become resistant and get well on their own."

"Like the centaurs!"

"Perhaps. If Dorkham doesn't make any progress before long, I'll try out some things on my own. I currently have an assistant in training, miss Catterwall, who has already given me some excellent ideas of how to approach…"

"Cynthia?"

"You know her?" Peter blushed furiously.

"Um. Yeah. Um, Remus told us she was working here."

"Remus did? I did not know he met her here. Anyway, she's a very intelligent girl, and it breaks her heart to see so many animals die. Now with mister Lupin…She has a gift for curing infections and contaminable diseases. I'm sure that as soon as she hears that he's ill, she'll come up with a brilliant idea how to cure him."

"But…she doesn't know…"

"And I won't tell her," she reassured him. "I hope she does not find out on her own, but even if she does, she's compassionate and smart enough to keep it a secret."

"Isn't there anything you can do yourself?" She sighed.

"I'm afraid not. I'm a passable Medical witch, but my strength lies in healing physical injuries such as broken bones, scrapes, bruises, strains. I know what medication to administer in case of most diseases, but I'm no Potions Master, nor an Infectionist. All I can do is try to keep his fever down. So far I'm succeeding." She smoothed her robes over her knee, thinking.

"And if Cynthia has no ideas, I can always call on Mrs Halberdash at Saint Mungo's. She was my peer when I was a trainee at Saint Mungo's myself." This to Peter's inquiring look. "A formidable woman. I doubt she's ever come into contact with a virus like this, and especially an infected werewolf, but only recently they've discovered a concealed, ancient part of Saint Mungo's personal library, so maybe she can see if Mungo had a cure. It's highly unlikely, but still…" She peered through one of her windows, into the infirmary, and apparently noticed someone in need of assistance.

"Anyway, you saw him. Tell your friends that it's really better if you don't come to visit him. Maybe in a few days, when he feels better…"

"Not at all, you mean," Peter said bitterly. He put his hands in his pockets, encountered his frogs, and pulled them out. "I brought him some chocolate frogs. Maybe he'll want one when he wakes up. Remus's a chocolate fetish the size of Newfoundland." Poppy smiled, a little sadly.

"He'll like that. I'll give them to him when he wakes up."

"Okay." He stood up. "Well. I guess I'd better go, then, right?"

"You'd better. Goodbye, Peter. Be sure I'll tell you if anything happens." Peter nodded. He walked out of the infirmary feeling even more restless than he had come.

Forbidden to visit his friend, Sirius made an appointment with Cynthia instead. He asked her during dinner, and she nodded, but told him she wanted to take a shower first, so he shouldn't be early.

"I'll take one with you, if you like?" he grinned, and the other Ravenclaw girls giggled. All but one. A small, plump girl stood up and pulled his sleeve as he prepared to go back to his own table.

"Hey! Sirius."

"You're Julie, aren't you?" Sirius recalled with his usual lack of subtlety. Even though he'd had Herbology and several other classes with her for the last six years, he couldn't remember having talked to her once. Perhaps he had. Perhaps not. She was not the kind of woman he actively pursued; too plain, too small, and too ordinary in every way. But Remus liked her. And that thought made him smile where he would have sneered otherwise.

"Can I help you?" She nodded.

"Um…It's about Remus." She blushed and released his sleeve. "I kind of…had a date with him. But, er, he didn't show up. I mean, he missed Herbology. We'd set a date during Herbology. But I didn't see him. Do you know where he is?" 

So he still wants her. Sirius sighed.

"He's ill."

"Ill? I thought he only had a cold! Will he be back tomorrow? I…I really want to talk to him."

And she wants him, Sirius's practiced womaniser's mind supplied. I can't believe it. I'll kill Dorkham for this!

"No, I don't think he'll be back tomorrow," he said grimly. "Or anytime soon. He's pretty ill. We couldn't even pay him a visit."

"What?" The girl's rosy cheeks paled again. "But…he was fine when I last spoke him. During the Match. How can he be so ill now?" He shrugged, trying to appear indifferent but unable to hide all of his anxiety. 

"I'm sure it's nothing but a bad case of the flu. You know the way it can strike all of a sudden. Don't worry about it. I'm sure he'll be alright in a few days."

"I'll ask Madam Pomfrey," she agreed. "Maybe I can see him tomorrow."

"You do that. If you'll excuse me, my food's getting cold." He made his escape with considerably less elegance than he would have wanted.

"Was that Julie Pelting?" asked James, as Sirius plunked down on his chair.

"Uhuh."

"What'd she want?"

"Remus."

"Eh?" Sirius smiled, slightly bitterly.

"She wants to date him. So she chose the one day that he got ill, waited, as you can say, until he finally caught some disease that…"

"Sirius. Chill. She couldn't know he were ill." The other boy snorted, and angrily impaled a meatball on his fork.

"Maybe not, but it's so bloody typical for women to finally give in on the worst possible moment. Stupid girl."

"Maybe she's got nurse's instinct," Lily offered. "It's pretty common. She notices he's sick, she falls in love with him. As soon as he's better, she…" She stopped. Sirius inflicted more horrors on his food.

"I know all about it," he growled. "Sadists, all of them!" The meatball fell apart in several pieces. Lily chuckled.

"And yet you come back to them every time again." Sirius sighed. 

"Yeah," he murmured. "But I'm a masochistic fool. Everybody says so. And Remus isn't. Damn, I wish I could take his place. And I'm not being heroic or something. I just…I hate to be so helpless."

"Then why don't you ask Cynthia whether she has any ideas?" Peter spoke up. "Madam Pomfrey said she would, if Dorkham wouldn't come up with an antidote soon."

"You went to see Madam Pomfrey?" Peter nodded, and quietly told the others about the conversation he'd had with her. James snorted.

"As if some long-dead Saint dude'd know about modern viruses. And didn't they kill all…um, never mind. But Cynthia…that might be a possibility. Be sure to ask her." He smiled. "Bribe her, if you have to. Have you found out whether she's into threesomes yet?" He automatically dodged Lily's punishing slap.

"No." Sirius said shortly, and without smiling. "But I'll ask whether she can come up with a cure. Only problem is, she'll have to know he's different."

"If Madam Pomfrey asks her, she'll find out anyway."

"Right." He picked up a piece of meatball, put it in his mouth. "I'll see what I can do."

To be continued…

Next chapter: I actually fear I don't know what exactly will happen in the next chapter. Oh well. Sirius reads Witch Weekly. James visits Moony. I'll probably do something with Snape, he's been way too quiet. See ya!


	16. VIRUS 16

waves Hello! I have good news and bad news. The good news is that I found a small job. The bad news is that that seriously impairs my writing. As you probably already noticed. I won't be able to update as often as I like. Sowwy…

But I'm not stopping or anything, the story will just go a bit slower, that's all.

16. Remus is angry, Sirius swallows insults, James departs on a Moony visit

It was a little past seven when Sirius knocked on the door to the Ravenclaw common room. The door was opened by Roland the Head Boy, who sized him up and shook his head with a wry smile.

"How do you do it?"

"I use my charm." Sirius replied. "You should try it. It really works. Can I come in?"

"Sure, come on in. You know where she is." Sirius grinned.

"Yup. Have a nice evening." He walked towards Cynthia's private room, greeting people on his way. Unlike the Slytherins, the Ravenclaws soon forgave, if not forgot Quidditch defeats. Which was just as well, Sirius reflected, since he would have been restricted to dating Gryffindor girls otherwise. And while Gryffindor had quite a lot of nice girls (like Lily, he sometimes thought with a hint of jealousy) he did not want to have a Gryffindor girlfriend. Firstly, because they tended to be a little too much like him, and secondly, because he did not think that he would lead an easy life in a House filled with exes. Better stick to other Houses.

The door was open, at least unlocked, and he let himself in and closed the door behind him. She was not in, but he heard the soft pitter patter of the shower, and smiled.

You do that, baby. Get clean for me. He sat down on her bed.

Crackle. He jumped up, ripped the pillow away. Staring up at him was a thick glossy front page proclaiming Witch Weekly! Special cross word puzzle edition! Are you tired of conjuring rain shields? Do you want a change from our English weather? Solve the puzzles and win a Holiday for two persons to the sun-drenched Bahamas!

"Right," Sirius chuckled. "Didn't know you still were a Witch Weekly fan, Cynthia." 

Half covered by the cross word puzzle banner, a man's face desperately tried to wring itself into full view. Sirius read the smaller caption.

Lord Voldemort: Cuddlesome or Criminal? All about this dashing young minister!

"Criminal." Sirius murmured, and then, with a glance at the half-obscured picture, "And daft-looking, I might add." 

Ignoring the Voldemort article, he skipped to the cross word puzzles. Cynthia had already filled in the first two. All together, there were seven.

You go, girl. Of what date…yesterday's. Not bad, Cynthia. When d'you have to send them in? Next week. Question is, with whom would you go if you won? Me? Or someone else?  

He spent some time trying to solve the riddles, but the puzzle she was currently working on was a cryptogram, and he was very bad at thinking around corners, so after a while he skipped past the puzzles and came upon a column on how to improve one's breast size. It made him giggle helplessly.

"What are you laughing about?" a honey-coloured voice asked him, and when he looked up, he saw Cynthia stand in front of her bathroom door, wearing nothing but a towel. He grinned.

"I was wondering whether you did those exercises." Cynthia's shower-flushed cheeks reddened even more.

"My Witch Weekly!"

"Bingo. Were you hoping to win the Bahamas holiday?" She had already regained her composure.

"Actually I was hoping that I'd improve my breasts with those exercises you liked so much. But you think they're nonsense?"

"Yes. Besides, there's nothing wrong with your breasts, and I can testify. But seriously, Cynth. Witch Weekly?" She shrugged, and the towel shifted a little.

"Why not? I happen to like cross word puzzles. Am I not allowed to indulge my cravings, once in a while?" Sirius pouted, and reached for a slip of the towel.

"But it has Voldemort's head on the front page!" He tugged, and she had to take a step forward to keep the towel from sliding down her chest. Nevertheless she dared another shrug.

"So what? As long as he doesn't win the holiday instead of me he can have his head on whatever page he wants. Besides," she showed two perfectly white canines, "he's rather cute."

"Cute? He's cross-eyed!"

"Only because of that label…"

"And he's old!"

"He can't be older than thirty-five." Sirius resolutely laid the magazine on the ground, face-down.

"I will not have you ogling Voldemort. It's disgusting." Cynthia showed him the most vulgarly sexy upper-lip-lick he'd ever seen.

"I so love it when you boss me around…" He raised an eyebrow.

"Really."

"Oh, yes!"

"Aren't you the lucky one, this evening." And he ripped the towel away with a snap.

"Actually," Sirius said, sometime later, "I didn't come here to make love to you." Cynthia was amused.

"You didn't?"

"No."

"Then why did you?"

"Utter lack of self-control. But what I'm here for is to ask you something."

"And that may be?" Sirius sat up, leaned his back to the wall, facing her as she lay on her side. His face lost its playful glow.

"Whether you could try to find a cure for the virus." Cynthia frowned.

"Why do you ask me? Isn't Dorkham…"

"Yes, but he isn't making any progress." He swallowed. "You see…Remus's got the virus."

"What?"

"Remus's got it."

"But…but that's impossible! Only magical creatures can catch the disease, right? How could he have gotten infected?" She sat up as well, clutched the sheet against her chest.

"Remus," Sirius hesitated. He'd kept it a secret for so long he found it almost impossible to tell her. "Remus is a werewolf. He is a magical creature." 

This time she only looked at him, her mouth open.

"He's a werewolf?"

"Yeah."

"And they know?"

"Depends who 'they' are. Most of the staff knows. Madam Pomfrey knows. Peter, Lily, James and I know…and now you know too."

"And he has the virus?" No silly questions about the danger of a werewolf to the rest of the pupils, no questions of what they did with him when he Changed. I do love this girl.

"Yeah."

"And you decided to have a little roll in the hay before telling me?" Sirius blushed, a little.

"Well, you distracted me…"

"You," she clambered out of bed, "can be such a pig." Opening her trunk, she selected some clothes and dressed quickly, movements jerky with anger.

"Cynthia…"

"I don't want to hear anymore excuses."

"Can you make an antidote?" She halted halfway her jeans.

"I don't know. I…" sighing, she sat down on the bed, leaving her zipper open. "I don't know. I'm rather good at healing people who are sick—much better than at healing wounds. I can deal with most viral infections, like the flu and ordinary colds. A Viralist, they call it, I believe, that's what I am. But this virus…I've never seen anything like it." He folded a bit of blanket over her shoulders.

"But you might be able to cure it?"

"I truly don't know, Sirius! I don't know! Madam Pomfrey offered me this little trainee-ship of hers because she noticed I was good at easing the discomfort of the children who'd caught the flu—but this isn't the flu! Oh, poor Remus!"

"I didn't know you liked him so much." She frowned at him.

"I don't. Actually I don't like him at all, but hell, he's got the virus, and all those poor, poor animals that caught it died, didn't they?" Her voice quavered, she brushed one hand across her eyes.

"I never even thought about volunteering to help Dorkham. I always thought it was a Potions expert's work to find an antidote. You see, I can't stop diseases, I only slow them down, and that gives the patient the time to create antibodies to fight the disease on his own. And those antibodies I can multiply, so that they beat the disease. But maybe I was wrong. Maybe I can help him." Sirius crawled out of bed.

"Shall we go and ask?"

"Now?"

"Well, after we've finished dressing. Yes."

"You'd go with me to see Dorkham?" He swallowed something, possibly his pride, or his dislike.

"I can hardly expect you to face him all by yourself, can I?" She gave him a small but grateful smile.

"No. No, you can't expect that." Slowly buttoning up her blouse, she waited until he had put on his clothes. "Although I maybe should take a look at him first, if Poppy lets me."

"Remus?"

"Yes. Who knows I can cure him with my magic alone? I doubt it, but I can still try."

"So let's try." he decided, and, taking her hand, moved off to the infirmary.

Madam Pomfrey let Cynthia in, but refused Sirius entry.

"I don't want to excite him needlessly."

"I don't excite him in any way." Sirius sputtered, but contented himself with looking through the office windows. Cynthia's body blocked most of his view, and at one time Madam Pomfrey came to stand next to her, obscuring his friend totally from his eyes, but at least he could look.

Come on, Cynthia. Do it. Just do it. I know you can do it.

Poppy Pomfrey observed the girl's slender hands as they moved over her patient's bare chest, feeling, pressing and stroking. Remus, eyes heavy with fever, was observing her as well.

"Why," he wondered after a few minutes, "are your hands on my chest? Sirius wouldn't like it. He already thinks you were hitting on me, a few days ago." She sniffed.

"As if I'd consider making a pass at a scrawny twerp like you."

"You said I was less skinny than you thought I were." He winced as she pressed down just below his ribcage, then squirmed as her touch tickled him as she ran her fingers over his belly.

"I was just being polite. Lie still. It concentrates," this to Madam Pomfrey, "Here, in his stomach, and here, in his lungs. The virus's made to bring its host down by attacking it in two separate locations." The other witch inclined her head.

"I noticed. The infection in the stomach is slight, it only affects the host's eating pattern: it causes nausea and sickness, keeps him from eating, which weakens the host. The lung infection keeps the fever high, and weakens the host in this manner."

"I would really appreciate it if you substituted the word 'Remus' for 'host'." Their patient said testily. "Considering it's me you're talking about. And you also might consider taking your hand from where you've placed it. If you don't want me to get seriously and perhaps lethally embarrassed."

Cynthia gazed down. One of her hands was dangerously close to his crotch.

"Sorry," she said, removing the offending hand and smiling silkily, "habit." He snorted, coughed, took a few quivering breaths.

"You'd love to have Sirius here…wouldn't you? Prod him all day…" She cast her eyes down.

"You're wrong. I'd hate to see him here—hell, I hate to see you here, and you're one of the most irritating people I know. And whether you like it or not, I am going to prod you some more, and I don't give a damn about your embarrassment. If I can, I'll heal you. If I can't, I'll do what I can to stop the virus, or at least slow it down. So lie still and be quiet."

Remus lay still and kept quiet, turning his head on the pillow so he didn't have to look at her or Madam Pomfrey. He did not overly like to be touched, and especially not now. The fever made his skin hyper-sensitive, and everything Cynthia did tickled abysmally. 

Blast her. I bet she's doing this on purpose, he raged silently. Why's she come back to that spot all the time? He pressed his lips together, squirming as she ran her fingers over his ribs down to his hip. Somewhere in the middle was a spot she never failed to touch, which made his stomach muscles twitch uncontrollable.

Of course it has to be Cynthia. Not Julie or a nice werewolf girl. Why Cynthia?…and why does she have to touch me **there**…?

He was very much afraid that his body would react to her. Until now, nothing happened, mainly because he so absolutely loathed to be tickled, but what she was doing now was actually quite nice, and…

No. It feels terrible.

"Do you feel anything?" Cynthia asked him at that point, starting him out of his thoughts. "Does it hurt?" He shook his head.

"Don't feel a thing." She had both her palms pressed flat down on his belly, and although he did feel the weight of her hands, he did not notice any dramatic change. She nodded to herself, then pressed a little harder.

"And now?"

"Bit…uncomfy." Actually it was more than uncomfortable, but he was damned if he let her know. But again she nodded, as if this told her all she needed to know.

"Okay. Here I go." She closed her eyes.

And kept sitting like that for five minutes. Remus thought that her hands grew a little warmer, but that was the only thing he noticed. The dull ache in his head did not grow any less, nor did his fever seem to go down. Glancing up at Madam Pomfrey, he raised his eyebrows.

"What's supposed to happen anyway?"

"You're supposed to feel better."

"Well I don't." He wished she would go away, so he could go back to sleep again. "I only feel like an idiot. Why's she…" He felt another coughing fit come up and, sitting up, shook the girl's hands from his stomach and proceeded to hack into his hands until black spots were floating in front of his eyes.

"He doesn't have any antibodies," he heard Cynthia whisper. "He's not making any. How can he survive a disease if he doesn't make any antibodies?"

"I…don't…get sick…usually," Remus got out in between coughs.

"I know, you're a werewolf, but…" he looked at her, then, and there was such enmity and fear in his eyes that she turned away. "It's okay, Remus. I won't tell anyone."

"Who told you?" She hesitated.

"Nobody did. I found out on my own. No humans have so far caught the virus, which means that you must be a magical animal. And although I couldn't imagine why and how this school can keep a werewolf among her pupils…I'm sorry. I only wanted to help you."

"You're lying." Remus said. He sighed. "I'm glad you wanted to help me. But you can't, obviously. And I'm sorry if I'm prying, but you smell like Sirius." He smiled, a little cruelly. "This has his scent all over it. I'm sure he told you. Oh, with the best intentions no doubt, but still…"

"He did not want to tell me," Cynthia said, placing her hand on his shoulder. "You have to believe me. He'd never betray you." He laughed, and removed her hand.

"He already did. Didn't he?"

"So she couldn't help him?" Peter asked. Sirius shook his head.

"No. She couldn't. It upset her a great deal."

"What upset her," Lily wondered, "the fact that she couldn't heal him, or something he said to her?" Sirius smiled.

"You know all the things I'm not telling, don't you, Lil?" She shrugged.

"I analysed you, didn't I? Besides, I know Remus. He can be rather blunt, and he's positively dull-edged when he's not feeling well. I can just picture Cynthia going into a trance on him, and him wondering what on earth she's doing.

"And…whatever upset her, is upsetting you too. Unless scarf-shredding is a hobby of yours, that is." They all looked at the brown-yellow scarf on Sirius's lap, which he had unravelled half-way.

"Ah, yes," Sirius muttered, and rewove the threads with a wand wave. "Well, about me being upset, it kinda upset me hearing that he considers me a traitor."

"He whats?"

"And that he's right. I did betray him. Of course I only told Cynthia because I wanted her to help him, but I did betray him. And now it turns out she cannot help him it makes me feel even more guilty. I wonder whether I should memory charm her."

"Are you nuts!" James exclaimed. "You can't go around memory charming people! Least of all Cynthia. She may not be able to help him her way, but she may still help Dorkham. Who knows?

"Did you see Remus yourself? How'd he look?"

"I didn't really see him. Pomfrey wouldn't let me in." He pulled at a yellow thread, and three inches of wool rolled out. "Cold-hearted bitch.

"Anyway. I'd better go and do my homework. Don't want McGonagall breathing down my neck."

He left, taking the scarf with him. The remainder of the Marauders sat huddled in a stunned silence.

"Remus ill, Sirius doing homework," James murmured sadly. "What'll become of us? We'll end up as the Remote Threesome."

"I've got work to do as well," Peter said.

"The Remote Twosome."

"Me too, James." James sighed.

"And I need to prepare for potions. We're pretty sad, actually." Lily grimaced.

"Save your sadness for tomorrow. We have Burning potions tomorrow. Guess what's going to happen? And to whom, if we don't stop him from beating up Snape?" Her boyfriend groaned.

"And here I was, hoping that Dorkham'd be too busy preparing the antidote. Oh well. We'll just have to see what happens, right?"

But there was not much to see, the following morning. As usual, Dorkham had James paired up with Keith Sujet, Peter this time faced Marjorie Mincing, Lily glared at Remus's former partner Cress Dominus, and Sirius Dorkham had favoured with Snape for company. Yet Sirius ignored all Snape's taunts, brewed the potion with a diligence bordering on scariness and kept his mouth shut.

"Contemplating your sins, Black?" Snape finally asked after half an hour of silence. "Or have you taken a vow of silence?"

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Sirius retorted, then bit his lip as if he hadn't wanted to say even this. Snape sneered, content to at least have his enemy speaking again.

"I can't say it wouldn't drastically improve the quality of my life." Sirius bit harder, and chopped coriander roots with a speed not even a kitchen machine could have bested. Snape's grin widened even more.

"Something's happened to you, hasn't it? What was it? Dumbledore whipped your ass for breaking the Mirror of Erised?"

"I didn't break the Mirror."

"That's not what I heard."

"Then listen better next time."

"You shouldn't cut those roots so small. We need squares, not mush." Sirius took a deep breath.

"Do it yourself, if you don't like mine."

"You were the one who wanted to chop roots, Black. Divide the tasks evenly. I peeled my firewallnuts."

"Do you want to know what you can do with those nuts?" Snape grinned.

"I can add them to the potion. Which I will do, right after you've added the coriander. You can do that now. Now, Black!"

He was surprised and a little disappointed when Sirius flung the roots into the potion without further remarks, then added his nuts. The potion, which had been clear until now, bubbled viciously and acquired a faint red glimmer.

"'Add green and black pepper when the potion stops bubbling.'

"So what did happen, Black? McGonagall finally lost her patience with you? Or is it the fact that your little Ravenclaw slut found someone else to lend her favours to?"

"The potion's stopped bubbling." Sirius said through clenched teeth.

"No it hasn't.

"So how's your puppy friend doing? I heard he got ill. Too bad he's not human, eh? I'm sure he thought he was safe."

"One more word," Sirius said softly, "And they'll be scraping your body off the wall for days. How did you know anyway, Snape? We didn't tell anybody." He searched Snape's face for guilt or surprise or satisfaction, but all he saw was malice.

"I have my resources."

"Yeah? Well, good for you. One more word, Snape. I swear it. And add those damn pepper corns before we screw up the potion."

Snape shook the carefully counted corns into the cauldron and stirred. No matter how much he hated him, Sirius had to admit that it was never Snape who caused a potion to fail. The Slytherin had a feeling for potions that was almost frightening—imagine the things he can do if he decides to use potions for his vendettas!—and that made Sirius loathe him even more. He was no fool himself where potions were considered, and he considered it far beneath him to be jealous of a Slytherin, but he hated to be surpassed. And certainly by someone he did not like. James, Lily and Remus, that was another story (Peter surpassed him in nothing, not even Transfiguration), but Snape…

Well at least Dorkham hasn't paid him any compliments lately. Hell, the old cracker's probably jealous of Snape's progress.

The burning potion whoofed into flame when they inserted a few drops of Spanish fly, just as the recipe described, and Sirius allowed himself a brief satisfied smile.

There. Perfect. And I haven't hit him once, nor hexed him. Come on, Dorkham. Voice your admiration.

All their ominous teacher voiced as he inspected their potion was a low grunt, but it was as near a compliment as Sirius had ever heard him make, and he thought it was good enough. Peter was less lucky, being subjected to the 'displeased growl', and both Lily and Cress cowered beneath Dorkham's obvious disdain.

"Rubbish," he croaked, spitting in their shared cauldron. "Soup! Me own chicken broth's hotter."

But he actually hummed as he examined Keith and James's potion, imbibed a spoonful and belched out a great jet of flame.

"Decent, Sujet. Potter. Decent enough." James immediately raised his hand.

"Sir?"

"Aye?"

"Are you…are you making any progress with the cure? With the antidote for the virus?" The man's small eyes narrowed even further.

"What are ye implyin', Potter?" James faced him calmly.

"I'm implying nothing, sir. I was just wondering whether you were making any progress." Dorkham shrugged.

"I'm gettin' there. It takes more time than I'd hoped for, but we're doin' the best we can." Hobbling on, he verbally crushed another pair of pupils into the ground. James caught Sirius's eye, lifted his shoulders.

At least he SAYS he's making progress…

Sirius gave him a lopsided grin.

Let's hope he's speaking the truth.

Peter had planned to ask Dumbledore whether he knew how to speed up the search for a cure, but the Professor cross-examined them so thoroughly about the two chapters they had to read that it was all he could do to keep up with Dumbledore's notes and sayings. And when class was finished, Dumbledore sped out of the door with the grace and agility of a deer.

"Maybe he's already working on a cure," Lily mused, as they walked to the Arrythmaty room. "Separately from Dorkham's." Sirius grumbled.

"He could make a little haste, then. He's had over a month." James shook his head.

"I don't think Dumbledore can find a cure. He's a very powerful wizard, more powerful than any other wizard I know, but I don't think he'll know how to kill a virus like this one."

"He did heal my hand," Sirius said.

"But that was a flesh wound. Lily could've done it, right?"

"It was quite a nasty wound…" Lily doubted, but James shrugged.

"That's beside the point. Remember August Wurtzel, three years ago? He got some kind of virus as well, and they had to take him to Saint Mungo's. Wouldn't Dumbledore have healed him if he could?" Peter sighed.

"Yeah…That's one thing I don't understand either. Why didn't they take Remus to the hospital? I mean, this isn't some small matter here, this is…this could be some kind of plague, if they don't watch out."

"Exactly." Sirius dug his fists into his pockets. "A magical animal plague. Which means that we can't get it, but magical animals can. Here, we have only one Moony. But I'm sure that Saint Mungo's crawling with werewolves and shape changers and more such creatures. As long as we keep it close to Hogwarts, we'll be fine. But if it spreads…and if one infected werewolf bites a human…"

"It would grow out to an epidemic!" Lily realised. "If that virus finds a way to infect humans we could all die."

"Let's be a little more optimistic," James protested with a grimace. "No one is dying. Okay, Remus is ill and Madam Pomfrey won't let us see him. Fine. Cynthia couldn't help him. Too bad. He isn't dying yet. He's just ill. Knowing Moony, he won't let some simple disease bring him down. Secondly, like you said, Peter, he hasn't got the full virus but only a whaddayacallit…an element. He'll be fine. And Dorkham did say he was making a progress."

"I fail to see Dorkham as a saviour." Sirius said sourly. "He's simply too ugly."

"Saint Mungo wasn't pretty either," Lily objected, "but he did save hundreds of wizards during the sixteenth century War of the Wands with his healing powers and potions."

"Huh."

"And Florence Nightingale wasn't much of a babe either. She had a nose like Snape's." James shivered.

"Imagine waking up from a swoon and seeing that nose right in front of you, illuminated by that lamp of hers. You'd just as soon die and be done with it."

            The door to class was already swinging closed, and they ran the last few meters to be inside before it closed entirely.

*

James woke up with a start. He did not know why, because he had been sound asleep, and by the look of the other beds, the others were as well. Nevertheless he was wide awake now, and unable to go back to sleep. Reaching out for his glasses, he squinted at his clock. 1. 47 AM. 

Great. Why on earth am I awake?

A soft scuttling noise made him stiffen, but then he saw a small dark shape running from Peter's bed to Sirius's, and laughed at himself.

Luncheon. He's probably hunting for something. Food—owl treats. 

But he was still awake, and no matter how he tried, his body refused to go back to sleep.

I wonder how Remus's doing. Whether he's still angry with us. He's got the right to be angry. We could've been more subtle. But still, what else could we have done?

Suddenly he knew what he would do, what he should do. Hell, Luncheon had probably woken him for that very purpose.

Shall I take Peter, or Sirius?

No. Better do it alone. Less risk.

Very quietly, he slipped out of bed, felt around for his trainers and carefully opened his trunk. The Invisibility cloak was hidden in a separate compartment; it whispered softly as he pulled it out.

Now let's hope I won't run into Peeves or Filch's cat. 

James wrapped the Invisibility around his shoulders, pushed the laces of his sneakers into the shoes and tip-toed out of the room.

To be continued…

I know, I know, James didn't really visit him yet. Bite me! He'll do it the next time.  See ya!


	17. VIRUS 17 No pity please!

I know, I know, long time no update, and a rather small chapter as well. But I'm free tomorrow, so I'll write more then, and I needed this chapter to handle some uninteresting stuff. Lunard, you'll be pleased to know that you're right about Dorkham. Or rather, you were right about thinking that you weren't right : ) Mop Head and her Daemon (quite a mouthful, eh?) I'm glad you like my story : ) I hope you'll like the ending as well, when I finally write it. Zeptron Zulu, thanks for telling others to read my story : ) Sakura Blossom, I update as soon as I've finished a chapter, and sometimes that's fast, and sometimes it takes a few days. Ideally I'd update every day, and I did in the beginning, but…I'll try to keep this up: somewhere around twice a week.

Okay, that finished, I finally got to see COS! Wheee! I loved Kenneth Branagh as Lockheart. "Do you live here?" whack! grin.

Okay, enough ramblings. Here's chapter 17. 

17. No pity please!

After ten, the castle was left to the ghosts and the house elves. They required little to no heat, and James's breath misted about him as he sneaked though the ground floor halls.

I hope no one sees the clouds and wonders what's making them, he thought wryly. Wouldn't do to get caught now.

I wish I'd chosen a smaller animagus form. Being a rat would come in really easy, right now.

He knew the way to the infirmary so well he could find it in the dark; Sirius and he had visited Remus (and each other) so often before daylight that he could even find it with his eyes closed.

Sirius. It felt odd to wear the Cloak without his warmth in his back. There had been a time that Sirius and he had been inseparable—there had been a time that he wouldn't even have dreamed about going without waking Sirius first. But his friend had changed, not much, but enough to make James consider to let him sleep and go on his own.

Cynthia had changed him. He was not sure whether he liked that thought. Sirius had had numerous girlfriends, and he had been besotted with each one of them—but those girls had never kept him from planning wild adventures with James. Cynthia, obviously, did.

So either he's really in love with her, or she's even more of a nymphomaniac than he is, and wears him out so much he isn't up to creeping around at night. He smiled in the darkness. The last was more probable. It was a good thing, he guessed, that wizards were considered to be 'of age' at sixteen; he had heard that muggles had to wait until they were eighteen or sometimes even twenty-one. 

If sex is a crime in the muggle world, Sirius'd be in Azkaban since his fourteenth, he thought, grinning, then sobered. The very thought of Azkaban was enough to kill all mirth. No. no jokes about Azkaban. Imagine a place full of those horrible Dementors. I'd rather die than go there.

He shivered, partly with memories, partly with cold, and sped up his steps. In the distance, the gentle light from the infirmary shone into the hall; he followed it like a beacon.

The door was closed, but as he peeked through the window, he saw no sign of the medical witch, and carefully opened the door. One of the patients stirred without waking up, and he made sure to push the door softly into the lock. Walking on his toes to the office, he glanced inside. She wasn't inside, but the door to the ICU was ajar, and he thought he could hear her talk.

Now or never. She'll have to leave once.

Quickly, he opened the office door, slipped inside, and closed the door.

"…expect it to work, but maybe it'll cool you down a bit." Madam Pomfrey's low voice drifted through the open door. Remus's reply was inaudible, but at least he did reply, so he was awake.

Good. Now leave, woman. Go and wipe some stupid kid's nose or something.

Almost immediately, one of the students in the infirmary began to violently throw up; James almost sat down on the bed as he bumped against it.

Note to self: find out whether wishes come true more often.

Madam Pomfrey ran past him, closing the door to the ICU with a bang. James waited until she was occupied, opened the door and entered.

"Hey," Remus whispered. He was lying on his back, propped up with pillows to a half-sitting, half-lying position, and had his eyes closed. "You are here, aren't you?"

James pulled a bit of the cloak away from his face.

"Yeah."

"Hey."

"Hey yourself."

He had not known what to expect, after Madam Pomfrey's refusal to let them visit. A part of him had expected to find a emaciated, fever-crazed, moaning and unrecognisable Moony, but the Remus in front of him looked much like he usually did. His cheeks had an unhealthy flush, and his eyes were too bright when he opened them, and he had that slight gauntness about him like he also had after Changing, but that was all that hinted at illness. The eyes staring back at him were a lot more coherent than the eyes he'd met two days ago.

"How d'you feel?" Remus shrugged.

"I'll live. My head hurts, and I've coughed most of my voice away, and I'm dying for a plate of French fries and a steak, but for the rest I'm fine." A thin smile widened his mouth.

"Took you a bloody long time to come and see me." James's hands seemed to appear out of thin air as he held them up defensively.

"Madam Pomfrey wouldn't let us in. And we…Sirius and me…Are you still mad at us?"

"Mad at you?" he rubbed his left temple. "For what?"

"For well…betraying you. Taking you here. We were afraid that you'd told Poppy that you didn't want us to visit you."

"O hell, that." His hand slid across his forehead to his other temple. "No, I'm not mad at you. I can't even remember why I was angry with you in the first place. Can't remember much of that night at all, actually. I still think Sirius had no business telling Cynthia, but hell, he did, and nothing's gonna change about that.

"Why don't you laugh at my pun?"

"Huh? Oh. Haha." He rubbed his chilled hands. "So…can you ask Pomfrey permission for us? Sirius's wallowing in guilt, and he's driving me nuts."

"Sure." He closed his eyes, sighed. "I'll tell her your presence makes me feel better, then she'll let you in."

"Does it?"

"Hm?"

"Does my presence make you feel better?" Remus smiled, patted the edge of his bed. James sat down, making sure the Cloak covered him from head (minus face) to foot.

"No, not one bit, but you do take my mind of my head, which is a good thing. Cold hands?"

"Yeah. The castle's freezing cold. Next time I'll bring mittens."

"You can warm them on my forehead."

"What?"

"Your hands. Madam Pomfrey's real nice to me, but her hands're always warm. Which isn't bad when you're hurt, but…my mom always had cold hands when I were ill. Maternal thing, I guess. When your child's ill, your hands go cold so you can put them on the kid's forehead." He opened his eyes again, caught James's hesitant look.

"For god's sake, James, I'm not making a pass at you or anything…"

"No, no, it's okay. It's just...here." He placed his right hand against the other boy's forehead, and winced. "You still have a pretty bad fever."

"Yeah…"

"Can't she bring it down, somehow?" A slight nod, barely a nudge against his palm.

"She tries, but I can't keep much inside."

"You're still sick all the time?"

"Yeah. Only thing I can eat is soup. The chicken broth is coming out of my ears by now; she feeds me gallons of it. Cooling potion won't stay inside unless I'm asleep…I sleep most of the day, and then the fever stays down. Not that it does me much good; both the potion and the fever make me dream when I sleep…" He moaned softly as James changed hands. It seemed to James that the heat flared up beneath his friend's skin even as they were talking. Cooling potion's wearing off. Damn, he's hot as a brick.

"It's getting worse now, isn't it?" Remus whispered. James nodded. "I can feel it, you know. It's a weird feeling, as if you're lowered in a tub with hot air…" Something about his position changed as well. When James came in, he had been sitting up, leaning against the pillows; now, they did not so much support him as keep him from sinking into the mattress. As James pressed the back of his hand against Remus's burning cheek, the other boy's body gradually grew completely limp.

"Remus. Are you okay?" A tiny nod.

"Yeah…happens all the time." He coughed. "You'd better go now. She's bound to come back…in a bit. 'sides…I'm kinda…drifting. Which means she'll probably sponge me down or something else…equally embarrassing." He managed a rather weak grin. James forced himself to grin back, although he hadn't felt quite as scared as he felt now in a long time.

"Is that a gentle hint?"

"You know me, James. Always chasing after the ladies." He stiffened slightly. "She's coming. Cover your face! I'll start coughing so you can open the door…get out. You know."

"'Kay!" He hastily pulled the cowl back over his head, and not a moment too early. Madam Pomfrey almost ran into him as she strode into the room.

"Sorry about that," she apologised. "I had to give her a sleeping draught as well. Too many cockroach clusters is very bad for the stomach." James stifled a snicker.  

"It's okay. I'm in no hurry."

"Hm." She felt his forehead. "I wish I could find something which lasted longer…"

"Madam Pomfrey?"

"Yes, love?"

"Can I see the others tomorrow?" She moved to the cupboard, opened one of the doors.

"The others?"

"Well, James and Sirius and Peter and Lily. The others." His eyes drifted to where James was standing. "I'm…I'm like a limb socially severed from the body of students." Madam Pomfrey turned around, eyebrows raised.

"A socially severed limb?" He closed his eyes.

"Well, you know. I'd like to see them."

"But you're sleeping most of the day, and I don't want you to get excited…"

"They won't excite me," Remus said slyly. "Their presence might even calm me down… make the fever drop." She snorted.

"Please? I really feel like a social leper…"

"You," Madam Pomfrey said, "are full of it." But she smiled. "Alright, you can see the rest of the Marauders. If they come to see you. And not all of them together. I'll try and see whether I can time it so that they sleeping potion will wear off when their classes have finished."

"Around three thirty." Remus provided eagerly, and winked at James.

"Three thirty. Hm. I'd have to give you one at six…but…I'll see what I can do. It does mean that you'll have to do without one for a few hours now, then. I won't risk giving you an overdose."

"It's perfect," said Remus happily. He began to cough, hard and loud, and James opened the door as soon as Madam Pomfrey had her full attention on his friend, and ran back to the dormitory.

The next day, at three thirty, all Marauders and Lily stood on the infirmary doorstep and demanded to see Remus.

"We need to tell him things," Sirius said from behind the huge bunch of flowers Lily had made him carry.

"And give him chocolate." Peter added.

"I'm sure he's pining for us," James concluded, and although Madam Pomfrey looked as if she knew that something wasn't quite right about this visit, she dutifully let them in and cautioned them to keep their voices down. She did not even try to separate them—which she would have had to do by force, since Lily held both Sirius's and James's arm, and Peter had latched onto James's other arm—but only shook her head and closed the door behind them.

"Moony!" Lily cried in a whisper, and gave him a hug. "How are you? You don't look so bad, actually."

"Thank you," Remus replied ironically. He'd been right, James noticed now he spoke aloud, most of his voice was gone. Remus was almost in exactly the same position as he had been that night; sitting in bed, leaning against three or four pillows. But the high colour had left his cheeks, and his eyes were steadier as well. He caught Lily's hand as it strayed to his forehead.

"Please, Lil. I'm being poked at all day. Don't you start as well." She blushed.

"Sorry. Habit, you know."

"Bad habit. But thanks for the flowers. Or did Sirius pluck them for me?" Sirius grinned.

"I did, actually. Sooo pretty, those blue and yellow flowers. Have you got a vase in here? I don't want my beautiful flowers to go all a-droop." James shivered.

"Eew." Sirius stuck out his tongue. Remus cast a searching look around, then shrugged.

"Best leave them on the sink. I'm sure Poppy's got a vase somewhere." He coughed, briefly, then sat up.

"So. What's happened these past few days? Tell me tell me tell me! I'm bored out of my mind in here. Did anyone get hexed or beaten or…?"

"Well I got a private lecture from McGonagall on how to improve my marks," Sirius started slowly, "But I don't think that'll interest you."

"Not much." Remus agreed with a smile.

"Nothing much has happened," Lily said regretfully. "Even Potions was tedious. Dorkham's making progress with the antidote—at least, that's what he says, but I think he's lying."

"Let's hope he isn't." 

"No. So. Er. How're you doing?" Remus smiled, and gave her exactly the same story as he had given James that night.

"I'm going nowhere for the time being," he ended, "and I can't do a thing because of my head. Can't read, can't do homework, can't do anything. So you guys'll just have to do things in my place. This weekend's a Hogsmeade weekend, isn't it?" They all nodded.

"But we didn't want to go," Sirius said, softly. "It wouldn't be the same without you." Remus raised his eyebrows.

"First you sell me out, now you don't want to go out without me? Really, Sirius." The other boy frowned.

"Come on, I didn't…" 

"I know. But still. Your reason sucks and you know it. You can get drunk without me looking over your shoulder. You could take Cynthia…" The frown became a scowl.

"She's working here all weekend. Next week, she's got to go to Saint Mungo's for a tour or something. She won't go out."

"Then I hope she won't try to heal me again." Remus muttered. "I'd hate to go through another one of her sessions."

"I was only trying to help…" Sirius said plaintively, but the werewolf shook his head, then fixed him with a stare.

"I know you wanted to help me. I'm glad you do. But if you ever, ever tell anyone else that I'm a werewolf, I'll kill you. And that's nothing personal, but simply a matter of self-defence. I managed to grow up without killing myself or having anyone else kill me because I kept the secret to myself. And I managed to go to school because I kept the secret. And when you found out I thought I'd die because you knew my secret, but I'm alive and so are you, because you're my friends and because all the teachers've been so nice and careful and kept the secret for me. 

"But damn it, Sirius! My secret isn't something like 'I used to read Witch Weekly when I was a kid'! Do you know what happens to me when somebody finds out what I am and starts telling the others? I'll be expelled, and Dumbledore will lose his job because he took me in!"

"I know." Fists buried in his pockets, Sirius looked away from him, then back. "I know I shouldn't have told her. But…I…I don't want you to…to die."

"I'm not dying." Remus said firmly. "I may be ill, but I'm not dying. I'm hungry, and I'm pissed off, and my head is killing me, but I'm not dying, and I don't want you coming here looking as if you're going to bid me farewell and a safe journey to the Other Side.

"Hell, I'd hoped you could cheer me up, but all you do is moan about Dorkham not finding a cure and look at me as though  I'm a sick puppy. Stop pitying me! Tell me a joke or something, and please, please go to Hogsmead and have fun." Sirius looked away, and so did the others. Remus took a deep breath, then got out of bed and swept Sirius up in his arms.

"Heeey!" Sirius cried, and then "Oomph!" as he was unceremoniously dumped on the bed.

"Do I look like I'm dying?" Remus asked, folding his arms across his chest. "One hint, if you say yes, I'll wrestle you."

"You look terrible," James said at once. "Ready to keel over any moment. Don't you think, Sirius?" His friend nodded.

"Ravaged by illness. Better order lilies for the funeral this instaaaaaaah!" The rest of his words were smothered beneath a large, fluffy pillow.

"I thought I told you not to get him excited," Madam Pomfrey's dry voice interrupted Sirius's protests. Peter hid behind James and Lily.

"I didn't do anything." He said innocently.

"Me neither."

"Me neither."

"I plead guilty," Sirius gasped as he pulled the pillow away from his face. "But it's his own fault. I was only apologising." Remus snorted, but he was smiling. Madam Pomfrey, however, strode into the room like an avenging angel and all but slapped her hand against his head.

"Your fever is rising.

"You, get off that bed. You, get back into it. I told you to keep it calm. If you can't do that, you apparently can't handle having visitors."

"But Madam Pomfrey…"

"Be quiet." She glanced at her watch. "You have ten more minutes, and then I want you out. Whether he shows it or not, your friend is very ill, and hoisting people around is not good for him." And to Remus, "I don't want you to fight hordes of delusory hunters in the night again, young man. I need my rest as well." Remus manfully underwent her glower, but his reply was rather meek.

"Yes sir."

"Good. Ten minutes." She turned around and strode away again.

Sirius clasped his hands in front of his chest.

"Oh, wow! No more McGonagall for me!"

"She's rather domineering, isn't she?" James agreed. Remus shrugged.

"She's okay. Just a bit overprotective." But Lily noticed that his blush of irritation had now mottled his whole face, and that his eyes were growing heavy-lidded. She thought,

Maybe she's overprotective. But she's right. You should keep calm. You're not half as well as you want us to think, and this little show of yours cost you much more than you wanted.

She caught one of his hands, automatically noticing the heat in his thin fingers, and said, 

"At least she keeps you well. And if you have to stay in bed when we visit you, it's okay as long as we can keep visiting you, right?"

"Yeah, I guess…"

"So we'll go to Hogsmead and see whether we can stir up some trouble," James took over, "Solely to give you something to think about during the long dreary day."

"You're too good for me." Sirius snapped his fingers.

"Ah, that reminds me! Yesterday a certain Ravenclaw girl pulled at my sleeve, wondering why you hadn't met up with her during Herbology." Remus blinked.

"Her name was Julie," Sirius added helpfully, and grinned when his friend's eyes grew wide.

"Julie! Oh hell, I'd forgotten all about her!"

"Love does that for you, sometimes," James chatted, and yelped as Remus swatted at him.

"Julie…damn it, what a time to get sick! I'll write her a letter…no…I can't write letters. And no, I don't want your help. Damn, damn…" He buried his face in his hands, humming with indecision. 

"I know something," James said with an air of genius. "We'll just tell her she can visit you."

"But then she'll think I've asked you to ask her to visit me." Remus whined.

"Well, haven't you?"

"No. no…that way it'd be just like…like…"

"Like you want to see her," Lily finished for him. "And oh dear, you really don't want her to think that you do!

"Come on, Remus. She wants to see you, she's worried about you. If you had the guts to date her, you have the guts to face her now."

"But I never really dated her. I only…"

"Snogged her senseless?" provided Sirius.

"No, I…yes." Remus finished lamely. The others laughed. Peter patted him on the shoulder.

"We'll tell her that she can see you because we were allowed to see you as well. How's that?"

"Peter, you're an undiscovered and ignored genius," James quoted, substituting 'Peter' for 'Morpheus the Marvelous'. "This way we'll spare the man mortal mortification…"

"Bad sentence, James," Sirius interjected. "With those alliterations."

"Shut up, I was being lyrical."

"James, you wouldn't recognise lyrical if…"

"And you are falling into repetition," James said testily. "You said that to Moony a few weeks ago."

"Groove is in the heart," Remus added enigmatically, and began to cough. Madam Pomfrey shot into the room as if she was propelled from behind.

"Out," she said to the healthy Marauders. "Come back tomorrow—and keep it calm, next time. Or maybe you shouldn't come back at all…"

"But they have…such a…positive effect…on me," Remus protested in between coughs and wheezes. The witch only clicked her tongue at him.

"Be quiet and breathe in deeply. Let me feel…just as I thought."

"See you tomorrow, Moony!" James waved, and Sirius pointed at the flowers.

"Don't let them die…please, spare me…"

"Are you still here?" Madam Pomfrey demanded, and there was such threat in her voice that they all ran out of the infirmary.

But as soon as they were gone, her stern expression faded to a smile.

"You're very lucky, do you realise that?" Remus nodded, answering her smile.

"Yes," he said, resting his hot head against the pillow, "I know. I know better than anyone else."

To be continued….

Next chapter:  Hogsmead, Lucius Malfoy, and if I get to it an accident for James.


	18. VIRUS 18

Again I can't live up to my promises. That is, not unless I let you wait until Sunday, and I'd rather post what I have now; it's enough for one chapter. Bit of political stuff, just to show I haven't forgotten that there exists such a man as Voldemort. Romance for Remus, not much else…but the next chapter will be a Peter, Sirius, James thing, and I'm looking forward to writing it!

18. The Healing Power of Food.

Remus wondered how lucky he was the following day when, instead of his four friends, a single girl was let in by a smirking Madam Pomfrey. Sure, he'd thought they'd tell her she could visit him, and sure, he'd thought that she would visit him in time, but not the next day—not so soon! A flush hotter than any fever spread from his face all the way down to his navel as he stared at her, and even the fact that she was a little red did not make him feel better.

Why now? He wailed silently. Why now I'm sick and helpless?

But when she approached him and casually said, "Hi Remus? Feeling better?" His ridiculous terror dissipated into thin air, and a feeling of happiness rushed in. After all, this was the girl he'd been dreaming about since the third year, and she had come to see him. He released his crushing grip on his sheets.

"Hi. Er, yeah, I'm okay. Only Madam Pomfrey won't let me out yet."

"Oh." She hesitated, sat down on one of the three chairs next to his bed. "Um, I brought you something. I hope you can eat it. Madam Pomfrey told me you've been very sick."

"Did she now?" Remus growled. Julie laughed.

"Yes, she did. And it shows, too. Your cheeks are all hollow. Soo…I hope you like grapes and pears. You do, don't you?" Anxiously. Remus smiled.

"I love grapes and pears."

"I'd have bought chocolate, but I figured when you're ill you don't feel like eating chocolate, and when I was ill I literally craved for pears, so…"

"I love pears."

"So do I." She fell silent, played with the edge of her fruit basket (she had even tied a bow around it: red, with the yellow stripe of Gryffindor).

"Um. So. Shall I peel one for you?"

"I'd like that," Remus said gravely, and suddenly they were both laughing uncontrollably, and the grapes rolled over the floor.

"O hell," Julie hiccupped. "I wish we could just do it like that evening: just kiss and be done with it."

"Thank you. I can see you love me for my character and admire the wonderful person that is me." She grinned.

"I do. Actually. But I also like the way you kiss. I should've sought you out way earlier, but…well…"

"Hm?"

"I thought…aren't boys suppose to chase the girl, and not the other way around?"

"I thought you didn't like dogs."

It was out before he actually knew what he was thinking, and he grew rigid with reaction.

Hell damn, and I tell Sirius to keep his mouth shut! Stupid, Stupid!!! But Julie only raised her eyebrows.

"Well, you're not a dog, are you? Or did something go wrong with your karma?"

"N-no…it's just…I…"

"You do like dogs?"

"Y-yeah, yes I do, I guess…"

"I can live with a dog. As long as it doesn't sniff between my legs or drool all over my lap. That's disgusting." 

A very vivid and kinky picture flashed in Remus's fever-muddled head, and he giggled helplessly.

"What?"

"Nothing. Um, you were talking about pears?"

"Right." Julie crawled on all fours to gather her fruit together, offering Remus an excellent view of her raised, round and undeniably nicely formed behind.

"So," she continued when she'd dropped the last grape back into her basket, "You have a dog? What kind of dog?"

"Er…I kind of…have…a wolf dog."

"A Shepherd dog?"

"Er, yes."

"Ah. A big one, then." She took one pear in her hand and tapped it gently with her wand. "Peelergo." At the top of the pear, close to the stick, a bit of skin came loose from the fruit, and a moment later it came of completely. Julie regarded it with pride.

 "Nice little spell, this." She said.  "My mum invented it. She's a cook at the Wizards All Inn Hotel in Oxford. Has to peel seven hundred potatoes every day. You can imagine she could use a spell for that. And it works on everything: apples, potatoes, boiled eggs, all kinds of fruits…I'm boring you to death, aren't I?"

"I think it's fascinating. My mother never cooks, she gets everything for a muggle commerce chain called…well the initials are M&S. All you have to do is heat it. My mom hates cooking." 

"My dad hates it too, but he always has to cook because Mum's too tired to cook another meal at the end of the day. When she's at home at the end of the day, that is.

"Here, have a slice."

"Thanks." He took a bite. The pear was sweet and sticky and he dripped all over his sheets, but he didn't care one bit. It was something else than chicken broth, and that made it about the best he'd ever eaten. He prayed to god he could keep it inside—at least until Julie was gone. "My parents are rarely at home." He said, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. "They're Encyclopaedists for Magical Creatures, you know, people that map and report Magical Creatures. They're in Tibet at the moment, chasing a Yeti that's reported to have fallen ill. I only hope they won't bring it home with them."

"They bring home Magical Creatures?" The idea seemed to excite her to no end. But then, she hadn't spent an entire summer holiday with a tribe of pack-gnomes.

"Yeah, all the time." He finished his slice of pear and she handed him the rest, starting on a fresh one for herself. Or for him. He put one of the quarters in his mouth.

"That sounds great. All Mum ever brings home are leftovers. Some are very good, caviar and such, but most of the time…I'd like to eat something that's prepared for me, for a change, not for somebody else who didn't like it. Hogwarts is great, in that matter. I love the food here. It's so…cared for. I took a peek in the kitchens once. Do you know all the food's prepared by house elves?" Remus nodded.

"Do you know how few people know that? Nobody cares. Well, I went in one day, and saw them working, and I told them how much I liked what they'd made that day and…they positively beamed! They were so happy! I don't think anyone ever gives them a compliment."

"But if no one knows they're there…"

"Because nobody cares whether they're there or not. I mean, I'm not complaining. They don't mind. They love working. They hate being idle. But a few of them actually cried when I told them how much I'd enjoyed the food, and I've found a plate of cookies and chocolates on my night stand for almost a year after I complimented them. They're so cute.

"Here, have another one."

"Thank you."

"You must be famished after eating nothing but soup for three days. I really hope you get better soon. You're so thin—my mum'd stuff you, if she met you. It's a miracle I don't weigh a ton yet—but I do try to keep in shape a little. Although…" She leaned forward and squeezed in what Remus assumed was a roll of fat. He wished he were the one squeezing. "I should get more exercise."

"Or stop praising the house elves." Remus joked. She looked stricken.

"You think I'm too fat?"

"N-no, I don't think you're fat at all. You're nice and tasty and round, but that's not a bad thing…" The girl's mouth twitched.

"Tasty?"

"Did I say tasty? I meant…"

"You definitely said tasty. My my. What are you thinking about?" 

"Something men think about all day." Remus said, and stuffed the last bit of pear in his mouth. "Food." Julie laughed.

"Food, eh? Would you like another pear?"

"No thanks, I…"

"Grapes, then?" 

"Will you peel them too?"

"If you want me to…"

But at that moment Madam Pomfrey came in and said that it was time for her to leave, and Julie went with a look of regret. Remus lay back down, laughing quietly.

"What is it?" the medical witch asked as she checked his temperature.

"Nothing. Julie. She's…nice. She'd have fed me all the pears and the grapes, peeled, and then gone to the kitchen to get me more if I'd asked her to. Even if I hadn't asked her."

"Well, she certainly didn't disrupt the cooling potion, like your other friends…" Remus shrugged.

"The pears agree with your stomach?"

"So far so good. It's a nice diversion from the broth…"

"I can imagine so. I'll give you beef tea this afternoon, how's that sound?" Remus waved an imaginary flag.

"Whoohoo. How 'bout an egg?"

"We'll see about that," Madam Pomfrey said.

The next few days both the Marauders and Julie kept visiting him; the former after school was finished, the latter during her lunch break. Every time she came, Julie brought him something to eat, sometimes fruit, sometimes other delicacies her mother had sent her. And every time they chatted amicably, easily and without awkward sexual issues, and she would peel apples, pears, oranges, kiwis or grapes for him, feed him slices of canned pineapple or leechees, hand him plates with gelatine pudding or honey-based drinks, and whatever she gave him stayed inside—until his stomach rebelled at yet another mug of broth and sent everything spilling into the basin. But most of the time he managed to keep it in. Madam Pomfrey, for that reason alone, cheered whenever Julie showed her face.

            James, Sirius, Peter and Lily she welcomed with less enthusiasm, but since Remus, despite the fact that they left him feverish and coughing, perked up visibly especially when James and Sirius peeked around the corner, she allowed them in. Even more than Julie, the Marauders kept Remus from thinking about his illness. And when they had gone, leaving Remus coughing himself to exhaustion, he took the dreaded sleeping draught without as much as a grumble and slept away the better part of the day and most of the night. The cooling potion, administered when he was asleep, kept the fever down, and the painkillers she gave him just before he woke up made him feel better while he was awake.

But it would not stay this way, she knew. Cooling potions only worked for so long, and in length, the patient became resistant. She had been searching for alternatives almost from the very beginning, even considering muggle medicines, but in the end, the only cure would be a means to kill the virus.

She never said this to Remus, but she was aware that he understood this fact as well. He just refused to give in to any form of despair or depression—simply because he was too stubborn.

Let him be stubborn. Let his will fight the disease, if neither medicines nor his body can. And please, Dorkham, you detestable ogre of a man, hurry up!

It was early in the evening when Sirius, James and Peter waded through the ever growing puddles towards Hogsmead, shielding their faces against the stinging rain. They were the only three on the road; despite the many wonders and pleasures at Hogsmead, no other pupils had been tempted to brave the terrible weather—even Lily had produced some obscure essay she'd wanted to finish instead.

Ordinarily, the weather wouldn't have mattered, for they would have used the hidden passage running from behind the statue of the one-eyed witch to the cellar of Honeydukes, but as luck would have it, Peeves had decided to patrol that hallway, and they did not dare risk him hollering all over the castle that they had other means to reach Hogsmead than the usual. So they were walking. And getting wet. And cold.

"Maybe if we stay out long enough, we can tell Remus all about our little trip as we lie in beds surrounding his," Sirius mused aloud, blowing water from his upper lip. "If we all catch pneumonia, I'm sure Poppy'll let us stay in the same room with him."

"I wouldn't count on it," said Peter morosely. "She'd just feed us some horrible potion and send us back to class again." He wiped his face. His nose was bright red with cold. "Sirius?"

"Yeah?"

"You'll be seventeen next month, right?"

"Yeah?"

"So why is it you can persuade Rosmerta to give you alcohol while when I try she always smiles and gives me butter beer?" Sirius laughed.

"It's a matter of charm, my boy."

"Charm."

"Yeah, charm, and hypnosis." Peter's round cheeks quivered with disbelief.

"Hypnosis. Right."

"Oh hell, a simple spell, then. She thinks I'm eighteen already. Not my fault! Besides, I pay her for the drinks, right? And the stuff Lily fancies and the vodka you keep ordering's a lot more expensive than a few puny butter beers. So there. She's just greedy. Must be a Scot."

"Here in Scotland?" James doubted. "Highly unlikely. 'Sides, she sells me alcoholic beverages as well. And I don't use any charms or spells."

"Must be a Scot." Sirius repeated, and sneezed. "I'm catching my death out here. Stupid Peeves! Of all days…"

"I can already see the lights of the inn," Peter consoled. "Our suffering is almost at an end."

"Great!" James cheered. "I can't see a bloody thing with all this rain. Isn't there a water-repellent spell for my glasses? Madam Hooch did one some time ago, but I forgot how it went…"

"Forgetful git." Sirius sneered. "You'll end up blind as a bat without a single spell to improve your sight. Why don't you just let Madam Pomfrey put a spell on your eyes so you can do without your glasses?" James protectively pressed his steam-clouded, rain-covered glasses harder on his nose.

"I would never do such a thing. These glasses make me me, they are part of my character, they make me look distinguished, they…"

"We get your drift, James."

"But mostly," James finished, "they don't wear off when I forget to renew them, and they don't hurt my eyes, unlike the spell. Hell, I'm happy with my specs, why aren't you happy for me?"

"I share your happiness." Sirius said soothingly, placing a dramatic hand on James's wet shoulder. "You happiness is my happiness. Your happiness makes the sun shine on this rainy day. Your happiness…"

"You two go on sharing happiness, I'm going inside." Peter interrupted. "I'll see you later, I guess." He broke into a run, leaving James and Sirius standing in the rain. A moment later, he had vanished inside the Three Broomsticks.    

"That pesky little git." Sirius growled. "Interrupting my spell of hippie love." James snickered.

"You can't win them all. Besides, he's right. It's much nicer inside, shall we go in as well? See if we can find a Daily Prophet. I want to know whether the Shooters won. If they did, Wood owes me a galleon."

"You bet with Wood?" Sirius asked, opening the door of the common room, "About Quidditch? Have you got money to spare? Betting with Wood's usually not much of a lucrative investment, you know." James shrugged.

"We'll see. I really hope the Shooters won, though. You see, I didn't bet a galleon only. I also made her promise that if she lost, she'd let us sleep until ten for the next three weekends."

"You did!? Oh James, you're so…"

"Eeew! Go away! No more hippie love for me!"

Inside the Three Broomsticks, it was packed, not with students but with locals with nothing else to do.

"All the more people present to create some kind of trouble," Sirius said, hopefully and evilly rubbing his hands, but everybody was sitting cosily and quietly together, showing no signs of impeding discord whatsoever.

"Spoilsports."

The three boys wove through the throng, greeting people here and there as they said hello. Even here, Peter thought moodily, girls knew Sirius. He wondered how well they knew him. Madam Rosmerta, he thought, seemed to know Sirius just as well as Peter did, judging by the look of amused desperation she cast at him.

"Hi, Sirius. Boys. Didn't think to dry yourself before you came here, did you?" Sirius snapped his fingers.

"I knew I'd forgot something."

"I see." She produced a wand, waved it, and the next moment they were as dry as when they had left the castle.

"There you go. And, what shall it be this time? Dragon breath whiskey? Or something more exotic? And what age are you this time? Eighteen? Twenty-one?"

"Sixteen," Sirius said with a wide, innocent grin. "I thought you knew." She rolled her eyes.

"Of course I know. I know everybody's age here. It's the reason I became bartender. Superior insight. Although I must say that moustache you conjured the last time was rather convincing. If you keep it up long enough, people will actually start believing you're over sixteen."

"Next month I'll be seventeen."

"Good for you. How can I help you?"

"Well," Sirius drawled, but James pushed him aside.

"Something warm, er…have you still got that bubbling stuff?"

"You mean the Cauldron's Depth?"

"Yes, that's it! Three of those. And do you happen to have today's Daily Prophet? I could buy it at Paper and Past Times's, but it's still raining and…"

"Sure thing, love, I've got mine right here. But please give it back when you're finished with it. I haven't solved the Crypto Crack yet." Busying herself behind the bar, she filled three tin goblets with a smoking, frothing and bubbling liquid, fished a rolled up newspaper out of a drawer. "Here you go. That'll be four s, seven k. Thanks, love." The coins disappeared in the counter, which functioned as some sort of safe, and James handed his friends each a steaming goblet.

"Hey Peter, could you try and find an empty table?"

"Over there, in the corner," Madam Rosmerta pointed. "But no fighting with that Slytherin boy."

"Whuh?" said Sirius eloquently. Already turning towards another customer, she gave him a warning stare.

"You heard me. No fighting.

"Yes sir, how can I help you?" 

            The Marauders, with a shrug, took their drinks and performed the awkward dance required to make it to the table Rosmerta had pointed to without treading on toes or upsetting glasses. It was situated near a window, and a draft stirring the candle flames explained why it had been vacant, but the three boys did not care about drafts. They pulled three chairs to one side of the table, leaned their elbows on the table and warmed their cold hands on their goblets.

"What on earth are we going to do if we're not allowed to fight Slytherins?" Sirius muttered beneath his breath, but fell silent as James unfolded the Daily Prophet. "And? Did they win?" James heaved a sigh.

"No. They didn't. Damn. And they call themselves Shooters. Failures, that's what they are!" He beat his fist on the table, causing his drink to boil over.

"Easy, Prongs, mind your heart."

"My heart has just been broken. Why mind it?" He took a great gulp of bubbling liquid, and coughed. "Good god, what's she put in this?" a small plume of steam rose from his mouth as he talked; they all watched it with fascination.

"Hey, cool!" Peter took a big swallow, flushed beet red and began to emit smoke through the ears and the nostrils. Sirius raised his eyebrows.

"Real cute, Peter. You look like a miniature volcano. Can I have the paper? Thanks."

"Still addicted to Captain Starwand?" James teased, referring to the ancient comic on the Daily Prophet's final page, and Sirius grinned.

"I still have seven hundred or more editions of the Daily Prophet lying beneath my bed at home. But I haven't read one in ages. Let's have a look…hey! I already know this one! What a drag, they reuse adventures. This is the one with the Evil Wizard…"

"…From Beyond the Plains of Torture," James and Peter finished simultaneously. "Damn, yes," James continued, "I know that one too. It was one of the better ones, though. The last one I read was…something with Monster."

"The Monster from Blue Lagoon?"

"No, not the Lagoon."

"Monsters, Manuals and Mischief?"

"No…no, although that was a rather good one as well. No, it was…damn, I can't remember. Anyway, it sucked. In the end the monster turned out to be his hexed grandfather or something."

"Monster Merits." Both Sirius and Peter determined. "Yeah, I remember. I think that's about the time when I stopped collecting them. But yes, I loved Captain Starwand." A hint of the romantic appeared in Sirius's eyes, encouraged, perhaps, by the flickering light of the candles and the rain beating against the window outside, but it snuffed out almost immediately.

"But that's not why I wanted to see the paper. There was something about…yes, here it is. Something about Saint Mungo's."

"About the library!" Peter read, and edged a little closer to him. "Spread it out, will you. I'd like to read it as well."

Sirius pushed the Daily Prophet towards the middle of the table, and they all read the article, which featured the picture of a large, brunette woman in white robes holding up a thick book to the camera, smiling apologetically as if she were sorry she couldn't show more of it. Once in a while, her friendly face twisted in a sour look, but only for as long as the blink of an eye.

SAINT WRITES GIBBERISH

Was the article's headline. James, suddenly remembering what Madam Pomfrey had said about consulting that library in case Dorkham couldn't find a cure before the month was over, frowned. He read on.

Saint Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies, Friday 23, November 1966.

General disappointment ensued after Mercy Mungoon, a descendant of Parcifal Mungo, also known as Saint Mungo, confessed that she, like the many linguists and scholars before her, could not make sense of the unique language the Saint uses in his books found in the recently recovered part of the Hospital's library. Mungoon, a nurse at Forpork's Asylum, Sussex, had requested the hospital to let her have a look at the works, maintaining that a relative might be able to decipher the Saint's writing. To no avail. It has now been seven weeks since the 'Secret Collection', as it is called, was discovered. A great many books have been dated, and many are from the sixteenth century, written by Mungo himself. Others are even older. These older volumes have all been identified as works on the mending of injuries caused by dark magic, the healing of the soul, and exorcism. The books Mungo has written himself are impossible to read. 

The article went on for a bit, telling about the wonders of the ancient tomes, but Peter all but skipped those lines.

"Damn," he said. And quietly, "Nothing on viruses."

"No…" James slowly refolded the paper, until it was showing its front page only. "And if he had written anything on it, it's unreadable." Sirius said nothing, just sipped his Cauldron's Depth, smoking a little from the ears.

"Stupid saints. Who needs them anyway." James shot a glance at his dark-haired friend, who was so uncharacteristically silent.

"Hello? Are we paying attention here?"

"Hm?"

"Attention." He looked up.

"Sorry. I was reading. Here. Listen:

LORD VOLDEMORT OPPOSES MUGGLEBLOODS IN MINISTERY

London, Friday 23. The newly appointed minister of Magical Segregation Lord Voldemort, after the implications of whose name many still grasp, has spoken against the appointment of Suzannah Hayes as his main secretary.

"She's more than half muggle," the minister states. "She has no idea how our world turns. Her mind is befuddled with muggle knowledge. She grew up in a muggle village where witches were burned in the old age, and only when she went to Hogwarts she learned of the Hidden World. It would be unwise, yes, a folly to appoint this woman as my secretary. I make no secret of the fact that will she be chosen, I will do everything in my power to make sure that she will not enjoy working with me. Halfbloods are a big enough issue at the moment, let us not jeopardise our position by introducing muggleborn."

So far Lord Voldemort. Miss Hayes could not speak to the press at the moment."

James cursed, softly.

"This man," he said, "is dangerous. He may be right, and he may be voicing what a lot of wizards think, but still…saying it like that, publishing it in the paper, that's dangerous." Sirius snorted.

"They put his face on Witch Weekly, do you know that? Along with the slogan 'Cute or homicidal', or something."

"You're kidding."

"No, I'm not." They all studied the small pictures; one of Voldemort, who stared out at them evenly, looking cool and poised and sure of himself, and one of Suzannah Hayes, who could have functioned as the main character in a play called 'Indignation'. She was almost frothing at the mouth.

"Well, he certainly isn't cute," Peter decided, and the other two agreed with him.

Apart from Lily, every member of their little group came from an old line of wizards. The Potters had always been Aurors, and Peter's father played a large role at the ministry. The Blacks were somewhat obscure, but according to Sirius they had been dragon slayers, in those times when dragons were considered to be a danger to society instead of an endangered species. As far as they knew, Remus's family had moved from Ireland into Scotland, several centuries ago, and had crossed, a long, long time ago, with the Sidhe. There hadn't been a single squib in the entire family. The Evans were a wizarding family as well, but the talent had skipped a few generations, returning only in Lily, and not even in her sister.

"But then," Sirius used to say, "horses rarely have magical power." He had little love for Petunia.

But even while her parents were muggles, or rather, a squib and a muggle, Lily could not be seen as a muggleblood. Whatever Voldemort might be planning, the Marauders were safe. However, seeing that cold, handsome face with its tiny smirk, James felt a hint of anxiety. Not because he foresaw a political disaster—he really didn't care about politics that much—but because he thought Voldemort was bad news, and he didn't like the fact that someone he, and obviously so many others regarded with suspicion, held a place with so much power.

He was still staring at the front page when Peter suddenly froze up, bumping his hand against his arm to get his attention.

"What is it?"

"James. Who is that?" James followed the boy's finger. It pointed towards the wall side of the Three Broomsticks.

"Who's who?" Sirius, alerted as well, sat up abruptly.

"That's Snape. So that's our mystery Slytherin." Peter shook his head.

"No, not Snape. They guy he's talking to. He's half in the shadows…I feel like I know him, but I can't come up with his name…" James squinted, taking off his glasses to see more clearly.

Snape and his companion were sitting diagonally from where they were sitting, occupying one of the seven booths on the wall side of the building. They had moved the candle to the very edge of the table and were almost completely obscured by the shadows. The only reason why they recognised Snape was because he was leaning forward now, and the candle light cast his beaked profile in perfect contrast. Nobody else they knew (except perhaps Dumbledore) had a nose like that.

All they could see of the man he was talking to were his hands, which were long and slender, with a heavy ring on his left middle finger; and some of his hair, which was blonde. He was maddeningly familiar, but neither of them could identify him.

"Damn Rosmerta and her fighting restriction," muttered Sirius angrily. "I could've gone up to them and punched Snape in the nose, finding out who that bloke is at the same time." James tsk-ed.

"You are so violent, my friend. I thought you were feeling hippie-ish today."

"Snape's spoiled my mood. Especially when I can't kick him, and he's talking to people I don't know."

"I didn't know you were jealous about Snape's company…"

"James, how much do you like being able to see?" James grinned.

"I like being able to see very much, thank you. So, I guess we could do with a new drink, right? I'll get it. I might be a bit long, I've got a little detour to make…Wait for me here, will you?"

Swiping up their empty goblets, he headed straight to the booths, cast a good look inside Snape's and went on to the bar.

As he returned with three fresh Cauldron's Depths, his eyes were bright with excitement.

"Well, who is it?" Sirius urged, hastily taking his drink and pushing it out of the way. "Did you recognise him? Who is it?" James held out his hand.

"You owe me three sickles."

"Who is it?"

"Three sickles." Exasperated, Peter drew out a handful of coins and slapped them on the table.

"Here's your money. Who is it, James?" His friend gathered the coins in one hand, counted them out, handed a few of them back and said,

"It's Lucius Malfoy."

To be continued...

Next chapter: Peter functions as a spy. Snape has a problem. I hope to give James his little accident, but he seems to be unwilling to go : )

Oh, and of course, thanks for all your reviews! They keep me going (in so far as they're not hounding me to continue, plaguing me with guilt every time I sit behind the computer and write less than a page : )


	19. VIRUS 19

Hello! Saw Lord of the Rings 2 yesterday, or rather this morning. It's great! Although I disliked Gimli being chosen for comic relief. Anyway, this is a rather short chapter, but it's very important for the plot, so I'll post it the way it is now. Again I'm smote down by the flu myself, so I'm not sure I can type more today, but I'll try. Oh, and I made a mistake in the last chapter. I said the paper was from 1966, but that should be something like 1975 or so. Otherwise they're rather old when they get Harry, right? And I want Sirius and Remus still available for stories after the Goblet of Fire, and when characters hit forty they just…lose something. Youth, I guess : ) Lunard, I went to the Werewolf Registry and read the fic (from Thing1, isn't it?) about Remus brewing soup and causing mayhem…is that what you meant with 'giving Remus soup?'

Happy Moony lovers, go to the werewolf registry. There are some very good stories over there!

Okay, enough with the commercials : ) Here is chapter 19. I hope you all enjoy it.

19. Conspiracies and rat actions.

"Lucius Malfoy!" Sirius hissed, and Peter echoed him, but with a querulous tone in his voice.

"Lucius Malfoy? Who's that? Should I know him?" James shrugged.

"No, you shouldn't, not really, but…we know him."

"He married Narcissa Spindle!" Sirius provided.

"And who," Peter wondered, "is Narcissa Spindle?" Sirius took a large swallow of his drink, blew out his breath and succeeded in forming a circle of smoke.

"Narcissa," he said, "was the most beautiful girl at Hogwarts. She's older than us, mind you —left school about…three years ago. Beautiful woman. Eyes to drown in. Hair like spun silver. She looked like a nymph, or a veela, or whatever you want. Bit of a stiff upper lip, but still…beautiful. She frightened me to death, to be honest." He grinned. Peter chuckled.

"So Malfoy married her?" he concluded. "I don't see the connection." James shook his head.

"There is no real connection, it's just why we know him. He used to date her while she was still at school; Sirius and I happened to see them snogging one sunny afternoon."

"He's way older than she is," Sirius said with a grimace. "He must be at least twenty five, maybe even older."

"So what? She must be…what, twenty-one? I don't see the…"

"Open thine eyes and see, Peter! Narcissa was a Ravenclaw. Malfoy's a Slytherin. He's left Hogwarts ages ago, and now he's talking to Snape. He's from a powerful wizarding family which is known to have ties with Dark Magic. Now, we have Snape. We have an ex-Slytherin. We have," and here he paused briefly to give the others time to let his words sink in, "a possible conspiracy." Peter smirked.

"I really don't get your logic, you know that? But I must say that I'm dying to know what they're talking about."

"Me too," James said, leaning closer to his friends. In reaction, they all bowed their heads close together, creating an air of conspiracy themselves. "Most of all because I came really close, but Snape didn't even notice me. He was concentrating on Malfoy so utterly that he didn't even see me checking them out. Isn't that odd? And you know what, I tried to hear what they were saying, but I couldn't hear them. Either they're speaking very, very softly, or…"

"They've cast a spell to keep others from hearing." Sirius finished his train of thought. "Damn it. Suspicious little rat!"

"Hey!" Peter took offence, but at that same moment two pairs of bright black eyes fastened on his own, glittering with ingenuity.

"What?"

"Peter," James said, and lay his hand on Peter's shoulder, "There is something you have to do for me. Something very important. Something only you can do. Or rather, something only Wormtail can do…"

Peter blinked. Then a sly smile crept up his face.

"Oh yeah!" he breathed, and took a quick sip of his drink. "I'm your man, James. Just…hide me, when I transform, will you?"

*

A room looks different through the eyes of a rat. Everything is about fifty times larger than you recall it, people don't see you and are therefore a constant danger factor (being squashed beneath a human shoe is not high on the rat's priority list), and the smells humans ignore are overpowering.

Peter loved being a rat. Once, he had wondered whether people would miss him if he just remained a rat after one of the Marauders' midnight strolls, but after a day James dug him out of his closet.

Ah well. I know what to do if I can't find a job, later. I'll just become a rat, and stay that way. Maybe I can sell myself as a familiar. Who knows, I might actually find a cute girl who's attracted to rats.

But not now. Now, Peter Pettigrew was a rat with a mission. He flitted from table leg to table leg, keeping close to the walls. Although the wizarding crowd was rarely afraid of rats or other vermin decreed 'scary' by muggles, it would still not do to be caught or stepped upon.

As a boy, Peter was wholly uninteresting (as his sister had told him many times), but as a rat, he was all but invisible. Being uninteresting he considered a bad thing, but invisible…that was almost better than being handsome. Sirius would have a cow if he'd known that Peter had seen Cynthia naked almost a month before he had—like every other pupil, she did not pay attention to the odd rat, even when it skipped into her room.

The rat smiled, or rather, let his whiskers quiver.

Oh, you should know what I've seen, Sirius! You'd be amazed!

He raced along the wall, pausing as he came to an open space, waiting until he could cross it safely and unseen. The moment came, and he ran quickly to the other side. First booth. He entered it and crossed it, making sure to stay out of the way of the large feet beneath it. Second booth. Same story. The third booth proved to be a bit of a problem since the woman inside was looking for her paper napkin beneath the table, and made a grab for him as she saw him, muttering something about 'Almost out of rat liver'. He bit her in the finger and shot away, hiding in a corner until her shouts had died down.

But finally he came to the cubicle Snape and Malfoy were sitting in, and halted next to Lucius's expensive leather shoe. Their speech must have been magically reduced; all he could hear was a faint mumble.

But at least I can hear them! I can hear them! If only I could get a little closer…

But that, he found, was not as difficult as he had feared. The table leg had a cross division at knee-height, and as he climbed on top of the narrow beam, pondering how he could get even closer to the speakers, he realised that he could hear what they were saying. Not everything, but most of it. Enough to understand what they were saying. Wormtail held his breath, clasped the table leg with his small claws, and listened.

"…you, this is the wrong time," Snape was saying. His voice was respectful but tight—the same way, Peter realised, as it was when Snape talked to Dorkham.

"Or do you think no one will notice when I suddenly walk around with a tattoo the size of a galleon on my arm?"

Malfoy's voice was softer than Snape's, smoother, almost silky, and Peter had to strain to hear what he was saying.

"Why would anyone care? They might think it's a new fashion, something like Punk."

"I don't do punk." Snape all but spat.

Not with his hair, he doesn't, Peter snickered, then forced himself to pay attention.

"Besides," Snape went on, "it's not as if it's an inconspicuous picture. I mean, really, no disrespect meant, but a skull and snakes? I can't do it. It's too risky." Malfoy sighed.

"Seventeen is the prescribed age, Severus. Our master will not be pleased to hear that you refused to take the Mark."

Mark? Tattoo? What are they talking about?

"I don't refuse it. I just can't take it yet. Believe me, I'll…as soon as possible, I'll come to him and let him place it, okay? Just not now. It's too risky."

"Very well," the silky voice said. "It's on your head anyway."

Snape grumbled something intelligible.

"No," Malfoy replied to that, "that would make the choice less than worthy, don't you agree? You have to make that choice as a child, not as an adult. Besides, it's more painful when you are an adult. Better have it done as soon as he requests it."

Silence. Then:

"I'll think about it."

"Good." Another pause, this one filled with the tinker of glass and the ripple of liquid.

"And, tell me, how is your other assignment coming along?"

Snape snorted.

"The man's an idiot! I started out on the path he'd followed, thinking he would at least have analysed the root of the disease, but no. I had to start all over again. He treated it like a common flu!"

Peter's beady eyes grew to twice their usual size. Disease? Is he talking about the virus? Heart pounding, he tried to listen even more carefully. Lucius Malfoy took another sip of his drink before asking,

"But you think you are on the right track now?" 

Snape obviously nodded.

"I'm rather proud of myself. It's a very nasty disease. And something else has happened, too—the real reason, in fact, why I asked you to come."

"Oh?"

"A werewolf has gotten ill. He caught the disease."

Remus! He's talking about Remus! He's talking about Remus…to a Slytherin!

"A werewolf?" The movement of a slim eyebrow raising with incredulity was almost audible in Malfoy's sleek voice. "Are you telling me the old fool's taken on a werewolf student?"

"Oh yes. But that's the least of our problems. Like I said, he caught the disease. I don't know how long you want me to wait, but…"

"Will it kill him, in time?" A hesitating pause, then,

"Yes, it will. Unless he is administered the antidote within a few weeks, before he Changes."

"Then let him die."

A deafening roar started in Wormtail's small ears taking all his senses with him, and he had to bury his nails in the wood to keep sitting where he was.

It's Snape! Snape's made the virus! For…for Malfoy? But why, why? And why must Remus die?

"…tell me you like him." Malfoy's voice drifted down to him, breaking through the tumult in his head. Wormtail perked up his ears once more, shivering slightly.

"I hate him," Snape said, quietly. "But his death would complicate matters. For me."

"Deal with it. Our master will…"

"Our master does not reside at Hogwarts. I do. If he wants me to succeed, I can't allow myself to be suspected. The werewolf's friends and the werewolf himself are all Gryffindors. They're…you might say we're sworn enemies. I'm sure they already suspect me—hell, they look at me and whip out their wands when one of them stumbles, so you can bet they think I'm responsible for all of this."

You bet, bastard! Especially after this confession! You…you unspeakable bastard!

"Don't mind your fellow students. How about the teachers? McGonagall is no fool, and neither is Dumbledore, for all his eccentrics."

"They don't know anything about the virus. They all trust me."

No longer! Not anymore, you traitorous madman! Not when I tell them what I heard you say!

Wormtail's small body was quivering with indignation and anger. He was actually seeing red, something which had not happened since Sirius called him 'my sweet little boy' a few weeks ago. He knew he should probably stick around and listen, but he felt as if the words he had heard were pushing his lungs aside and suffocating him.

I have to tell them. I have to tell James and Sirius—and Remus, don't forget him!—what I heard…Snape's gotta be exposed! And Malfoy, and whoever he's working for!

Hesitating only a moment longer (but Malfoy and Snape were back to discussing the tattoo issue, for which Peter cared little), the rat began his descent to the ground. He was too pent up to care about stealth now; shooting away like a Bludger beaten towards an unsuspecting Seeker by a Beater he crossed the room in a few seconds, slamming into Sirius's army waders as he tried to diminish speed. Ignoring Sirius's startled yelp he climbed up the boy's leg, hopped on his knees and jumped onto James's lap.

"It's Snape!" he squeaked. "Snape's created the virus!"

"Peter!" James whispered. The rat grabbed one of the cords hanging down from his sweater.

"He's been doing it all along—him and Lucius Malfoy and somebody else they call their Master! You…"

"Peter, we can't hear you! Stop squealing! You've got to transform.

"He's all hyper." The last to Sirius. 

Damn. Yeah. I'm still a rat. Silly me.

Ducking beneath the table and from James's knees, he transformed back, knocking his head on the table in the process. As he climbed back on his chair, his face was red with excitement.

"It's Snape!" he hissed, almost stumbling over his own words. "Snape did it! He made the virus! He…but Dorkham tried it at first, but he couldn't do it because he treated it like a flu! But Snape managed—he's responsible for Remus and the unicorn and the trotters, it's Snape! And he's doing it for Malfoy!"

The two other boys just stared at him.

"It's true! I heard it! Snape was bragging about how clever he was, how proud to have created a nasty disease like this one. It's Snape!"

James's mouth opened and closed a few times before he actually got any words out.

"You…you're sure?" Peter nodded so ferociously he almost fell from his chair again.

"Yes! I heard them talking, remember!"

"Doesn't surprise me in the least, slimy poisonous git!" Sirius growled. "We should've known it was him, with all his potions and stuff. And he's always hated Remus." Peter shook his head.

"No. Remus getting ill was not his intention. I don't know why, but he said Remus's death would 'complicate matters' for him. But…Malfoy…he told him to let Remus…die." James grabbed him by his arm.

"Malfoy said that?!"

"Yes."

"He literally said 'Let him die?'"

"Y-yeah." Sirius banged his fist on the table.

"He has the cure." James nodded.

"Yes. He must have the cure. If he's made the virus, he has the cure too, and he won't give it to Remus because Lucius doesn't want him to."

"Lucius, or his master." Peter added. And with a jerky movement, "They're leaving!"

Sure enough, Snape and Malfoy had risen and were now weaving through the throng, keeping a respectable distance. Sirius growled, a low, menacing sound.

"No fighting in the pub, she said? Fine. I'll kill him outside." But James pulled him back.

"No! He'll be able to flee if we confront him outside. And Malfoy…No, we'll have to do it at school. And not tonight, but tomorrow. We have to confront him, tell him what we heard…"

"Why the subtleties?" snarled Sirius, popping his finger joints. "Let's just beat him up, then force him to make the cure and hand him over to Dumbledore."

"Maybe we should go to Dumbledore straight away," Peter suggested, but at that his friends shook their heads.

"He'd never believe us. Not after all the tricks we pulled."

"But this is no trick! This is serious!" He gulped the remnants of his now rather cold drink down, snorted the smoke out of his nose. Sirius grinned dangerously.

"Exactly. And that's why we won't tell the teachers."

"We do have to tell Moony."

"Right. And we'll do that." He looked at the door, through which Snape and Malfoy had passed, now more than five minutes ago. They were gone, and Sirius doubted they could catch up with them even if they left right away. He leaned back in his chair.

"We'll tell Remus as soon as we're back. And we'll make a plan. And then we'll slam that sneaky little snake against the wall a few times, until he starts spilling the beans." And even though his fingers refused to make another sound, Sirius managed to sound so threatening that James and Peter were awed.

Lily had come to see Remus at the usual time: three thirty in the afternoon. When she came in, Julie was just leaving. The girl gave Lily a friendly nod, then quickly walked away. She carried a small basket with her. It was empty now, but Remus's accounts of previous visits made Lily believe that it had been filled with fruit when Julie entered the infirmary, and she smiled.

Remus was, as always, lying in bed, looking pale and peaky but cheerful nevertheless. He greeted her with a warm smile.

"Hi Lily."

"Hi. I've come on my own today, since Liza dragged the boys off for Quidditch. They could protest what they wanted, but she simply abducted them. So here I am. I hope you don't mind." He grinned.

"I don't. And I think Poppy'll be positively delighted to know Sirius and James didn't come." His eyes flicked behind her. "But where's Peter?"

"Don't know. I assume he's doing his homework. Muggle Studies, I suppose. He told me they'd study the telephone next week."

"Fascinating." Remus whispered. She smiled.

"I'm sure he'll come by tonight, when we're back from Hogsmead. James and Sirius said they'd come for sure."

"Good." He coughed, took a few seconds to pant for air and drank a sip of water. "So…how're things going in my absence?" Lily shrugged.

"Much like they went yesterday, and the day before. With the only difference that we didn't have any lessons today, it being Saturday and all. We manage. We tried to cause a stir-up by enchanting one of the Slytherin plates at breakfast, but it jumped off the table and broke before it could do any real damage."

"Pity," Remus croaked, and coughed again. Lily dug a roll of cow-drops out of her pocket.

"Wanna drop?"

"No thanks." More coughing. "Julie fed me about six oranges just now, and I'm actually kind of stuffed."

"After six oranges?" She took a drop herself, waiting until it mooed. It did when she bit it.

"You wouldn't believe the nourishing value of six oranges," Remus parried, and she chuckled.

"A man's love goes through his stomach, right?"

"Definitely. Mine is a fruity kind of love." But after that quip he began to cough again, so long and so hard it seemed to tear him apart, and when he finally stopped, gasping, he was going limp again, sinking deeper and deeper into the pillows, eyes closed and a feverish blush colouring his cheeks. She touched his forehead, briefly, to check and frowned when she pulled her hand away.

"Shall I call Madam Pomfrey for you?" He shook his head.

"Not…just yet…thanks." And opening his eyes (and she observed anxiously how dilated and bright they had grown in only a minute), he smiled faintly, patted her hand.

"Don't look so…worried. I'm fine. Happens all the time. Poppy'll just give me…" he sucked in a bit more air, "a potion…and I'll be fine again. Really."

"I'm sure you're right." He rolled his eyes.

"You sound so…convincing! Really, Lil. Give me some credit…will you? I survived being…well, you know…without losing my sanity…Sure as hell won't let some puny virus beat me." But by now he was breathing so fast he was almost hyperventilating, and when she touched his shoulder to make him calm down his skin burned her fingers though the fabric of his pyjamas.

It's diminishing, the Cooling potion. It should have worked much longer, and better. I didn't do anything to excite him. It simply wore off, and it shouldn't, not this early.

She tried to keep the fear out of her eyes as she gave him a swift hug, feeling his ribs unpleasantly close beneath his flesh, and told him to shut up and pause for breath.

"Always talking, you. Wearing everybody out." He smiled.

"Yeah. Right." Something in that smile was so brave, so patient, so very Remus, that her throat constricted seeing it. She swallowed. Squeezed his hand.

"I'll see you in the evening, Moony. I'm sure we'll have something to tell you by then." He raised a hand in a quivering thumbs-up.

"You'd better."

Lily left, waving through the window in the door. Remus waved back. Then she turned around and walked out of the infirmary, blinking furiously. One tear escaped anyway, and she scrubbed it away before it could run down her cheek.

No. I won't lose faith. He doesn't. But oh, Remus…Please don't let him die. Don't let him die.

To be continued…

And still James refuses to get an accident. I may have to scratch it if I don't manage within the next two, three chapters. For the next chapters, prepare to read more hospital fluff, but don't worry, it won't become to fluffy. They guy is ill, and even if I can't let him die without screwing up the cannon, I can make him suffer, right evil grin tm

Next chapter: the Marauders hunt Snape and are chastened. Remus grows weaker. Cynthia visits Saint Mungo's.


	20. VIRUS 20

Again, I'm sorry for taking so long. I can't help it! I had my work, my birthday (I have now reached the ripe old age of 23 : (), there was X-mass, and I cooked, and the second day of X-mass (don't you call that Boxing day?) which I spent with my boyfriend, and…well, let's say I haven't seen a computer screen in ages. On the bright side, I did jot down a lot of notes on the ending, and I think it will be surprising and spectacular. Ahem  : ) Anyway, I didn't get to the 'face Snape' part yet, but it will be the second first thing next chapter. This is a bit of highly necessary girl bonding and more fluff. Please enjoy! 

20. Plans

When it turned out to be a horrible evening and Peeves blocking one of their direct routs to Hogsmead, Lily had decided to stay at the castle. She'd taken her homework to the infirmary, asking Madam Pomfrey whether she could sit with Remus when she made it. The witch had nodded.

"As long as you don't wake him. I haven't given him a new sleeping potion yet, but he's sleeping all by himself and…" She stopped, gave the girl a rather strained smile. "But I'm sure you know that yourself. I heard you had excellent grades." Lily nodded, and studied the older woman with clear green, understanding eyes.

She loves him. Remus. Not in a physical way, but she loves him nevertheless. She's never behaved this protective towards James or Sirius when they were ill—towards no one, I dare say. And despite everything she felt a grudging respect for the thin, charming but rather unexciting boy. Wound her around his little finger, and probably has since he first met her. Clever Moony. Always finding the person with the most useful powers.

Her smile broadened as she tiptoed into the ICU. Remus was asleep, just as Poppy had said, lying curled up in the middle of his bed; a small ball of blankets and boy, inseparably intertwined.

I don't think I'll wake you up, not even if I shout your name. Knowing you, and all other men…She sat down on one of the chairs beside the bed, opened her book. 'On Monsters' it was aptly called, and the chapter she had to read dealt with the Kraken. She did not know whether she felt excited or terrified by the idea that Dumbledore had decided to expose them to the Kraken. Ah well. I'm sure it will turn out okay. Everything always does.

She had read about seven pages when Remus started to cough and woke himself up. He rolled onto his stomach, pushing himself up on his elbows, back spasming, his shoulder blades jutting out like small wings as he coughed and coughed, until he overcame this particular fit and dropped face-down into the pillow, panting. 

"Would you like some water?" Lily asked softly, and he started so badly at the sound of her voice that his reaction made her recoil as well.

"Lily!?" He pressed one hand against his chest (not to his heart, she noticed. His lungs, more likely), gave her a half-panicked, half reproachful glare. "You scared me to death!"

"Yeah, well, same here," she retorted, stooping to pick up the book she'd dropped. "I thought…you usually smell me, so I thought…I assumed you knew I was here."

"Ah." Gathering his pillows and blankets around him like a nest, he pulled himself in a half-sitting position. "Well I…was asleep. Don't actively smell things then." He rubbed his left temple, then sniffed dramatically. And coughed. She had to wait with the glass of water until he stopped coughing, since the spasm bent him almost double and he needed both hands to keep himself together.

"Here. Drink something."

"'anks…" He emptied the glass in three gulps, waited until it refilled itself, then downed those contents as well. His hand shook as he handed the glass back. "What I…wanted to say was…you should wear perfume. I can't always scent you…or James…but…" Yet another coughing fit wracked his body, and this time Lily stopped him when he tried to go on.

"Better be silent," she said, patting his back—when did he get so thin! I can feel every single vertebra in his spine—"You only make yourself cough this way."

Remus looked mutinous for a moment, but he kept his mouth shut, and let her ease him down and cover him up to his chin. 

"What…"

"Shhh. Don't talk."

"What is it with power-hungry women," Remus would not be silenced, even though his voice was little more than a rasp. "You get a kick out of…telling me what to do…right?" Lily smiled.

"That's right. I love controlling your life. But…" and the mockery left her voice, "I love you too, so that's not such a very bad thing, is it?" Remus's eyebrows twitched.

"James wouldn't approve." She rolled her eyes.

"I don't love you that much, Moony."

"Pity. Ah well…" He clenched his eyes shut, rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"Headache?"

"Yeah…always. Oh please, stop looking…at me like that."

"You can't possibly see what I'm looking like with your eyes closed." Remus smiled.

"You smell of pity." He tensed. The smile disappeared. He opened his eyes, stared at the doorway. "And she smells of guilt." He said, as Cynthia walked into the room. She cast one look at Lily, smiled at her, then grew sober again as Remus glared at her.

"Intending to try to cure me again, aren't you? Although you…know I can't stand it." He coughed, and Cynthia shrugged.

"Well, I can't stand not being able to help you. You know that."

"Get used to it." Lily frowned.

"Remus! Behave!" The open enmity in his voice made her feel uneasy. Weird. I know he was never mad about her, but this is preposterous. She's only trying to help him.

Remus snorted, but Cynthia hushed Lily's reply to that reaction.

"It's okay, Lily. He's right, you know. I should've asked him. And he's sick, and helpless, and that makes some men turn into babies and others into grouches."

"I'm not a grouch!" Remus hissed furiously. She smiled.

"Of course you aren't. Can I feel your forehead?"

"No, you cannot. Yes, I have a fever and you know it damn well. Stay away from me."

"Remus!" 

"She's too damn…touchy!" he grumbled, then began to cough again. Cynthia walked towards the cupboard, picked up a small glass and a carafe.

"Are you at least prepared to take your sleeping draught from me? And, when you sleep, the Cooling potion? You'll break a rib if you keep coughing like that."

Lily was amazed, both at Cynthia's calm and friendliness, and Remus's blatant dislike. There was nothing, nothing dislikeable about Cynthia.

Still. I'd like to have a little talk with her. This isn't…it just doesn't make sense. Remus never behaves like this. 

She could almost feel him rebel at the very thought of taking the draught from her, but he fought it down, and accepted the glass.

"I guess I'll see you tomorrow, then," he said, speaking solely to Lily. "Say hello to the others for me."

"Can't you stay awake for a little longer? I'm sure they'll be back in about an hour…" 

He glanced at Cynthia, who held up her hands.

"It's your choice, Remus. I'm not gonna tell you what to do. As if you'd let me, anyway."

"Damn right. …Hold this, will you…" Lily hastily grabbed the glass before he spilled all its contents in a violent coughing fit. She winced. When he stopped coughing she thought she could hear the liquid bubble in his lungs.

"Fine…" he gasped, falling back into the pillows, although no one had said anything, "I'll take it now…have it your way." Lily pushed the glass back into his hand, and he swallowed without another word.

"Try…" he licked his lips. "Try to wear perfume…tomorrow…okay?" Lily smiled.

"Sure. I'll wear 'Sweet Dreams' from Dior Witchwear. You'll smell me a mile away." 

"That's…the spirit…" He squeezed her fingers, smiled, and was gone. 

"It works faster every day," Cynthia said softly, catching the small glass before it could fall to the ground. She touched her fingers to Remus's neck, gave a small nod. "He's asleep alright." She turned to Lily.

"I was here the second day he was ill, yesterday and today the whole day. A healthy person needs at least four, five minutes before the Sleeping Potion starts to work. Now, he needs less than a minute." Because he's getting weaker, and has less energy to fight the potion.

"Why are you telling me?" wondered Lily. She sighed, walked back to the cupboard.

"Because…because I do want to try again, and I need your, well, consent. As a friend of his."

"You want to try what again? To heal him?" Cynthia nodded. She poured a bit of a blue fluid into a thin, syringe-shaped vial. The Cooling Potion, Lily recognised from M.S.

"Yes. I know it didn't work last time, and Remus has been fending me off for the past few days, but I thought…Maybe I can, this time." She sat down on the chair next to Lily's, placed the vial on the table. "You see, I do feel guilty. And I am planning to try to heal him again, and damn his reservations! Madam Pomfrey's sent his blood to Saint Mungo's, and they haven't got a clue what to do with it! They've sealed it away, frightened to death that it will become an epidemic if they try to mess with it. That's why they want to see me, next week. See how good I am. I'm going to the hospital on Wednesday. 

But do you know what that means, they sealing his blood away? It means that they won't help Dorkham find the cure." She beat her fist on the mattress in helpless anger. Remus didn't even move.

"I don't mind you trying to heal him," said Lily. "On the contrary. Go ahead. I don't know why he doesn't want you to."

"O that one's easy," the other girl said with a wry smile. "It's a male thing. Maybe even a male werewolf thing, but definitely a male thing. I wasn't joking when I said that illnesses turn some men into babies and others into grouches. Of course I started off badly with him, first on that day when I walked in on him while he was taking a shower, and later when Sirius told me that he was a werewolf. But how could I've know that he was alright and only recovering from the Change…that was why he was here, wasn't it? Yes, I thought so. I thought he needed help. So sue me for being overzealous!" Lily grinned.

"Remus thought you were trying to make a pass at him. He was thinking about Sirius." Cynthia stared at her, incredulous, then burst into laughter.

"He was thinking about Sirius? Oh my, they really are loyal to the core, aren't they, the Marauders? 'thinking about Sirius'." She giggled. Lily felt peeved.

"Well, you are rather easy with other men, and…"

"Lily." Cynthia briefly touched her thigh. Her face was serious once more. "I am always easy with men. With all men. I'm easy with Sirius as well. Mind you, I love him. I really do. Sometimes even a bit too much to my liking. But when a half-naked man stands in front of me I will not waste time checking him out." A small smile parted her lips again. "That doesn't mean I'll pounce on Remus the moment Sirius's back's turned. I don't exactly fancy Remus." As if drawn, their eyes returned to the subject of their conversation, who was still lying motionless apart from the slow rise and fall of his chest. 

"But," she drew his sheets up a bit, "I do like him, even though he doesn't like me. And I hate it, I hate I hate not being able to help him. Question of pride, if you will. I don't want him to die. And he will, if Dorkham doesn't hurry up. So…you'll let me?"

"He's sleeping, isn't he?" Lily returned calmly. 

Remus's chest was a high, bare cage of thin ribs, covered only by a layer of fish-belly white skin and several pink scars. It sloped down like a filled cave to his belly, which was flat and surprisingly muscled for someone so thin. Cynthia's hands, lying spread out on his stomach were tanned in comparison.

I never did see his body, Lily realised. Not even his upper body when it was so hot and we were swimming. He wore a T-shirt, I think. Damn it. I didn't know he had so many scars. Are all of those from Changing? He has them on his arms too…I wonder why I never saw them…

As it was, she could tell James right away that a good look at Moony's body would not change her affection for her lover at all. But it did make her see Remus in a different way.

All those scars, and he never complained about being a werewolf. Or yes, he did complain, about the danger of it, and the pain of the Change…but never about those wounds. Imagine hurting yourself like that, and not knowing that you did it until you wake up in the morning. Those three lines on his side…those must have been huge wounds. Imagine waking up with such wounds…

Seeing those scars on that thin, pale frame made her want to gather Remus up in her arms and just wail on and on about the injustice of it all. But of course that was nonsense. Remus never wailed, and he was the one lying here. She knew just what he would say to her, if he'd see her blinking away tears.

Stop pitying me, Lil. I really can't be bothered.

She smiled, blinked the last of her unspilled tears away and studied Cynthia, who was stooped over Remus's figure, hands spread out on his chest and stomach, hair trailing over his chest. Although her eyes were closed in concentration, Lily could not see anything happening. But when she touched Remus's arm, she could feel his skin pull beneath her fingers, as if he were receiving a static charge.

I can imagine why he doesn't like it. If this feeling goes all the way inside, it's pretty much… touchy, like he said.

Then, for one moment she thought that his temperature dropped, but the moment she opened her mouth to say so it flared up again, and she shook her head as Cynthia looked at her. The other girl sighed.

"Didn't work, did it?"

"No. Although I thought that the fever dropped a little, for one moment…"

"But that's not good enough!" She pulled the boy's pyjama top together, slowly began to fasten the buttons. "My power," she said, "strengthens a person's natural resistance, so that their own body can fight the disease, whatever disease provided that it's a viral infection, about a hundred times more efficient than when I had not helped. Do you understand?" Lily nodded. "But Remus doesn't have any natural resistance. I thought I was wrong, the first time, that I'd overlooked something. But I wasn't wrong. He isn't fighting the disease, because he has no antibodies to fight it with. And therefore I can't manipulate those antibodies because he hasn't got them!" Having finished with the buttons, she pulled up the sheets to his jaws.

"It's so…frustrating."

"You did what you could. It's not your fault." Cynthia grew very still.

"No," she whispered, finally. "But it sure makes me feel pretty stupid." Lily knew exactly how she felt. 

It's terrible, having such power and knowing that it won't make any difference. Especially for someone as proud and, face it, arrogant as Cynthia.

"Maybe we should give him the Cooling potion?"

"Huh? Oh, yes. We should. And Madam Pomfrey's found some sort of muggle medicine. Look." She unfolded a piece of paper and showed lily three vivid pink pills the size of a thick knut. They rather looked like candy.

"They're called 'ibuprofen' I thought it was. They're supposed to fight infections. They're… antibiotics. She told me to give them to him when he was asleep."

"They look…silly."

"Uhuh. But they're supposed to be very strong. Ah well. First the Cooling potion. I can always leave them for Madam Pomfrey to give."

*

It was almost nine when James, Sirius and Peter came to a skidding halt in front of the infirmary. James opened the door, Peter and Sirius ran inside, to the office in the middle, opened that door…and ran smack into Madam Pomfrey, who was sitting at her small desk writing a letter.

"What…"

"Remus…" Peter panted. "We need to speak to…Remus!"

"Now!" Sirius added, and steadied James when the latter bumped into him. A spray of small water drops wetted the ground.

"Well, you can't." said Madam Pomfrey, with a pointed look at the moisture.

"But it's important!"

"We really have to speak to him! It's…"

"You can't see him at the moment."

"But he needs to know…"

"James Potter! Sirius Black! Peter Pettigrew!" All three boys shut their mouth after this ominous use of their Sunday names. The nurse gave a satisfied little cluck.

"You cannot see Remus at the moment. He's asleep."

"But we…"

"He just had his sleeping potion, mister Black. You won't be able to wake him, not matter what you try. He's sleeping. He'll keep on sleeping until tomorrow morning five or six o' clock at least, and hopefully until nine. So you can write down whatever you wanted him to know, or save it until tomorrow. Now, you're disturbing the other patients. If you please…!" She pointed towards the door.

"But…" James tried one more time, "but Snape…" Her finger was like a sword, and pointed with even more vigor.

"Out! Save it for tomorrow! Out!"

And faced with so much female authority, the Marauders had no other choice than to turn on their heels and leave. 

Sirius cast a searching glance around the infirmary, looking for Cynthia, but he did not see her. Maybe she's with Moony. Or back to her room.

"Great," he said morosely. "No Remus. No Cynthia. Where's Lily? Don't tell me she's studying. I swear I'll explode if I can't tell someone else I trust—that bastard, that sneaking snake!"

"Snape, not snake," Peter amended, and James said that he believed that Lily was in the common room.

"She wouldn't go and study at hours she would otherwise have spent in the pub. Not even Lily. Which reminds me, what was that drying spell again?"

"Desiccato." Sirius muttered, with a flick of his wand, and immediately they clothes stopped dripping. James gave him an admiring look.

"You're really good at stuff like that, aren't you?" Sirius shrugged, too pent up to appreciate the compliment.

"Come on, then, guys!" he urged. "Let's find Lily, tell her what we heard—or shall we try to find Snape and beat the hell out of him?"

"Fat chance on finding him now," Peter argued. "If I were him I'd be back in the dungeons by now, and we all know that valour isn't my better part." James snorted.

"Peter, you're nothing like Snape."

"No, you lack the nose, your hair is different and you're about seven inches shorter. Now can we go or will you two be standing there appraising each other until tomorrow?" James laughed, and to Peter, for one moment Snape, Malfoy and their dreadful conspiracy was something out of a smoky, alcohol-tainted story. When James laughed, everything brightened up.

"Yes sir, Padfoot sir! At once, sir. Anything else, sir?"

Sirius closed his eyes. Silver smoke and quicksilver fumes drifted inside his head.

"Come on," he said tightly, and briskly walked to the main stairs. The others followed at a trot.

"You heard him right?" Lily asked incredulously. "You're absolutely certain that Snape…?"

"Yes." Peter said, and Sirius wondered aloud whether they had to tell the whole story again, if she still doubted what they had said.

They were all sitting on James's bed in the boys' dormitory, with the door locked (Will would just have to knock if he wanted to come in), and Peter's wand providing the light. It flickered over their faces, creating strange shadows and eerie highlights; they were all whispering, unable to speak normally in this bonfire atmosphere.

"Snape's devised the virus," James repeated. "On Malfoy's orders. Or rather on someone else's orders."

"Someone who wants Snape to get some sort of tattoo." Peter suddenly remembered. Two pairs of black eyes and one pair of green eyes fastened on his face.

"Tattoo?" James asked.

"You didn't say anything about a tattoo." Peter shrugged.

"I forgot. It didn't seem important."

"Well maybe it is!"

"Be quiet then! Let me think…it's on his arm, when he gets it. I know that for sure. And he said it was something pretty conspicuous. Something with a skull and snakes. Yes, that's it. A skull and snakes."

"So has he got this tattoo?" Sirius was cracking his finger joints again. Peter shook his head.

"No. He didn't want to have it, yet. Said it was too risky. He was afraid we were up to him. Ha! Now we are!"

"Oh yeah, little buddy, we are! Thanks to you." Crack. "Ow!"

"You shouldn't do that, you know," Lily said calmly. "It's very bad for your fingers."

"Oh who cares about Sirius's fingers anyway!" James cried. "Think about Snape! Think about what he's doing! He's killed tens, maybe even hundreds of magical creatures, and Remus…" Lily shook her head.

"I just…I just don't believe it. I still think you didn't hear it right. Snape…he's a bastard and a git, but…I don't think he'd do such a thing."

"You think wrong, Lil." Sirius said, and Peter nodded his agreement. "Think about it. He's Dorkham's number one student. Now, say Dorkham's the original creator of the virus, or maybe the original contact. For Malfoy. Or for this master of his. But Dorkham's old, and not as bright as Malfoy hoped. But then along comes Snape. He's bright all right. And he's ambitious. He's the perfect candidate. A miracle child when it comes to potions and cures and a Slytherin to boot."

"But…he saved me, once. Remember, that time when the boat sank…" James flung his hands in the air.

"Hell, Lily, I saved Snape as well, that doesn't mean I'm not an evil bastard!"

"Let's not go there," Sirius said uneasily. The 'Snape-accident' still made him feel quivery deep inside. It had been his fault, and if James hadn't been so smart to pull Snape away from the Whomping Willow he'd either be dead or a werewolf now. It was not an event he cared to look back upon.

"It doesn't matter." Peter spoke up, with finality. "I heard what I heard, and I'm convinced I'm not mistaken. Snape made the potion that brought the virus, and if he made the virus, he should be able to make the antidote as well. Or the cure, whatever you want to call it. And I say, we go and get it. I still think we should see Remus before we do anything, though. Not for any particular reason, but…"

"Because he's the one who's got the virus, and because he's a Marauder too," James concluded. "I agree. Tomorrow morning we'll visit Moony. And after we visited, we'll corner Snape. And we'll make him talk."

"Oh yess…" Sirius hissed, then grunted as he tried to crack his fingers again.

P.S. I'll be free next Sunday, so I'll try to get another chapter finished by then. Snape bashing. Or not : )


	21. VIRUS 21 Unexpected revelations

So sorry it took me this long. Like I said, I'm not often at home, and so I can't type that often. Even though it's my holiday (sniff). But this is a decent chapter, so I can look back on an afternoon well-spent. O Dark Moon, about age and sex…I know some people are a bit jumpy about kids having sex. Especially Americans (no offence meant, and I don't know whether you are American either) But if you remember that in the old days people were married at fifteen or even earlier, became a widow at sixteen and had five children when they were twenty; and the average for having sex now, in Holland, is age 16; and I turned the official age for wizards to be considered 'grown up' 16, I don't feel guilty about having them at it. It fit my ideas for Sirius to have him some kind of nympho. Besides, he's almost seventeen. James and Lily, well…you can't be boy- and girlfriend for so long (about two years in my fic) without trying some things out, so they're not virgins either. Remus is, and so is Peter. Cynthia is almost eighteen, so she's aloud to be kinda sexy : )

21. Unexpected revelations

James, Sirius and Lily had done the unimaginable: they had withstood Liza Wood. They had risen earlier than her, and hid in one of the unused bathrooms. It had meant getting up before seven and skipping breakfast (in case she had risen even earlier and gone to the great hall to have a snack before practice), but it had paid off. At half past eight, the three boys and the girl moved skittishly towards the infirmary, wary of Quidditch-obsessed Captains suddenly bursting out of closets. They met no one. James heaved a deep sigh as they finally reached the safety of the infirmary.

"We made it."

"Yeah. We did. Go us!"

Lily opened the door, and a smile lit her face.

"Cynthia's in." She waved to draw the other girl's attention. "Cynthia!"

The girl looked up from the bed she was making, smiling. She gave a pillow a final fluff, straightened the sheet and rose to meet them.

"Well hello! You're early. Oh hi, Sirius!" Sirius blushed. Peter saw it with amazement. He actually blushed. It wasn't a blush of embarrassment, the kind of blush Peter wore most of the time when he was with his parents or his terrible elder sister, but a colour of pleasure. It made Sirius look particularly boyish and charming. Damn him!

"Hi Cynth. I could say the same of you. Making beds at eight thirty? In the weekend?" She shrugged.

"No pain no gain, sweetheart. So. Is this a Remus-delegation or are you here to help me?"

"Ha, you'd wish!" James said. "No additional bed-making for me!"

"You could help me clean chamber pots?"

"No thanks. But so sweet you offered." She grinned.

"You know me, James, always generous. Just like Madam Pomfrey. It must be a nurse-thing, I guess. 'Look here, Cynthia dear. Twenty-four beds, and they all need to be cleaned. And mister Dellaware spewed vomit all over those three beds, so if you'd be so kind…' Really!"

"Where's Poppy gone anyway?" Sirius wondered. "Is she with Moony?" Cynthia shook her head.

"No, she's out. I thought she said she'd go to Saint Mungo's, to see a certain Mrs. Halberdash. Concerning my visit next week, I suppose. But you're here for Remus, not for Madam Pomfrey, right?" Peter nodded.

"Is he awake?"

"I don't know. I'll see. Madam Pomfrey told me he had a rather bad night…but I'm sure he'll be glad to see you guys." She went to the office, opened the door, peeked into the ICU and waved the others to come closer.

"He's coughing," she said dryly. "So I think he's awake. And by the looks of it his hair's wet, so he's crept off to the shower again. Naughty, naughty. When you're ill, you're not supposed to be obsessed with being clean." Sirius raised his eyebrow.

"You are, when you're visited everyday by a girl you want to get involved with," he said, grinning. 

As if he had heard them, and perhaps he had, Remus chose that moment to open his eyes and look at them. And he smiled as all five of them simultaneously pressed their noses against the glass.  

"Okay," James said. "Here we go. See you later, Cynthia."

"Sure. I'll give you a sign when Madam Pomfrey comes back, okay?"

"Right."

"See you!"

"Are you free tonight?" She slapped Sirius's backside.

"Yes. Now go inside and say hi to your uncouth friend. Then meet me at seven tonight. We could go out, do something fun?"

"Deal." He tried to kiss her, but Peter deftly tripped him and Lily pulled him along, muttering something about smooching in public, and Cynthia laughingly closed the door behind him.

 "Moony!" James cheered softly, and slapped the palm Remus held out. "How're you doing, my man!"

"Could be better," Remus replied in a voice that was little more than a whisper. There was a small line between his eyebrows, as if he were frowning. "Weird dreams all night. Thought I was in the Forest, trying to save my mom." He rubbed the bridge of his nose. "But otherwise fine. You're early. Something happened?"

"Something happened? Oh yes, damn it, everything happened!" Peter squeaked excitedly. Remus's frown deepened, but he said nothing. He did not have quite as many pillows in his back this time, and his position was more of a sprawl than a sit. Peter, however, needed no egging on, and he launched into his story with all his body: hunching over and moving his fingers as he told about his journey through the Three Broomsticks' common room as a rat, climbing imaginary table legs and perking his ears as he 'listened' to Snape's and Malfoy's conversation. His cheeks grew a bright red with relived excitement, and he was totally oblivious to the amused smiles of his friends—but even if he had been, he would have grinned himself, and acknowledged that maybe he was a little too involved in his account.

"…and then Malfoy said 'Then let him die.'! They really said that, Remus, Let him die." Remus made a sound that could be interpreted as a snort or a mutter—not the reaction Peter had been hoping for. Or Sirius, for that matter.

"Hello, Moony!" he hissed, grabbing Remus's wrist and shaking it. "Are you listening? Snape's the one who made the virus! And Malfoy just told him to let you die!"

"I'm listening." Remus whispered. His hand flapped limply in the air as Sirius kept worrying his arm. His wrist, Sirius noticed, was very thin and completely unresponsive; he could shake it all he liked and it was not withdrawn.

"But don't you understand?" he asked, anxiously. "Snape…"

"I understand. I just…I had a pretty bad night. So sorry I don't rage and scream and shout about it." And then he did pull his wrist back, but only to hack into his hands until they were all wincing in sympathy.

"Okay," James growled, "That does it. He's dead. And Malfoy too. And throw Dorkham in as well, I'll have him raw." Remus smiled faintly.

"Feeling…homicidal…today, James?"

"Damn right I do. Look at you! It's all his fault! First I'll grill Snape for the cure, then I'll gut him and hang him outside the…"

"Can we please be reasonable here," Lily interrupted, gently placing her hands on James's clawing fingers. "You can't go around killing people, or even beating them up."

"Try me." James sputtered, and Sirius cracked his joints again. The girl rolled her eyes.

"Would you stop that! One of these days your fingers will just fall off, you know.

"Look, why don't you let me talk to Snape. We all know he likes me better than you…"

"Over my dead body!" James barked, and Sirius shook his fist and yelled,

"Yes! You distract him and then I'll bash his head in with something heavy…!" But then Remus whimpered and pressed his fingers against his temples, curling up in his bed, and they hurriedly hushed their voices.

"I'm sorry. I'll utter my next threats more softly," whispered Sirius, hoping to coach a smile out of Remus, but his friend only nodded, eyes closed, and he wasn't even sure he had heard what he said.

"Head hurts?" Another nod.

"Do you want us to go away?"

"No…"

"Want some water?"

"No, it'll only come out again."

"Cow drop, then?" Lily offered, pulling another roll out of her sleeve. This time he did smile.

"Sure."

"Anyone else?"

A minute later, they were all sucking Cow drops, trying to make them moo a melody. 

"But now we still don't know what to do with this situation." James said, when his drop stopped mooing. Sirius shrugged.

"I say we confront him, tell him what we heard, slam him against the wall a few times and then force him to make a cure and confess to Dumbledore. There. Doesn't that sound sensible?" This bitingly to Lily. She nodded and clapped her hands.

"Admirable, Sirius. Sounds like a great plan."

"It does, doesn't it?" he said with a satisfied smile. "Then you'll love my next plan. It involves Dorkham, an enchanted rope, two kettles, one filled with boiling oil and the other filled with Cooling potion, a slaughtered pig and a pound of feathers."

"Don't even start." Lily sighed. She patted Remus's shoulder, slid her hand up his neck and onto his jaw. Remus opened his eyes, staring at her with a hint of defiance and a deep, dull, tired desperation. His hair was still wet at the tips, and surprisingly cold compared to his skin.

Whatever that pink pill was, it didn't help.

"Just…get him for me, will you?" Remus said quietly. She nodded.

"We will."

They spent most of the day skulking the halls and passages, daring even to the very door of the Slytherin dungeons before a Prefect raised his wand and began to mutter spells. Snape was nowhere in sight. 

"Slimy git's probably hiding somewhere, brewing more diseases." Sirius growled.

"Or reading a nice book by the fire." Lily proposed. "Which is much more likely. I would, if I weren't prowling these drafty halls."

"Come on, Lily. Sacrifices have to be made."

"Yes, and Snape could decide to skip supper and go straight to bed instead. We'd be seeking him until midnight. And didn't I hear you agreeing to see Cynthia at seven? What are you going to do, take her along while we search for Snape?" Sirius scowled.

"See? Sacrifices have to be made, fine, but not by you, right. At least not when you don't feel like it." She halted. "I've had it, actually. He could be anywhere. Who knows he's wandering around in search of us at this very moment, itching to test some new and unpleasant hex on you."

"I don't think so." She rolled her eyes.

"Neither do I, but it is a possibility. Fact is, we won't find him, or we'd have found him long ago. And personally, I have better things to do."

"We'll probably see him at supper," James agreed. "We can corner him afterwards and then confront him. Lily's right, we won't find him now."

After some grumbling on Sirius part, the Marauders and Lily decided to stop searching and return to the Gryffindor common room. They were sure another opportunity for the bashing of Snapes would occur soon.

But Snape was late for supper, and left after a quick bite, before James and Sirius had even had the chance to fill their plates. Peter and Sirius did a quick round through the castle without seeing as much as the shadow of Snape's nose, then Sirius went off to see Cynthia. James, Lily and Peter checked all possible places where the Slytherin could be, venturing even as far as Dorkham's class room, but found nothing either. At eight, they called it quits and went to say good night to Remus. But Remus kept saying weird things that made no sense, and Madam Pomfrey shooed them out after five minutes.

The three of them spent a rather listless evening reading nice books by the fire, and nothing at all would have happened if Render had not come by to drop a letter from Hagrid. Although 'drop' was a rather positive word. They had to pry the letter from his beak, although Sirius's absence seemed to calm the owl down a bit, and only after the third owl treat Render stopped staring hungrily at the bulge in Peter's sweater that was Luncheon. 

"Shall we read it now, or wait until Sirius is back?" James wondered. Peter snorted.

"You can wait until tomorrow, if you wait until he's back," he said. Lily nodded.

"He's a healthy appetite, I agree."

"Lily! Eeew! That's a mental picture I could do without!"

"I can't help you've got a dirty mind, my sweet." She grinned. "So read. Let's hear what Hagrid's got to say. It's been ages since we heard from him."

"Right," said James, and unfolded the letter. It was slightly wet and torn on one side, where Render had ripped the paper. "Here goes.

Dear Lily, James, Sirius, Peter and Remus,

I can't believe Remus has the virus. It's impossible. He must have a cold. Dorkham must be wrong. He has to be!!!! I'm sorry I didn't write sooner. I've been out in the Forest most of the time, trying to find ill creatures. There's only two Trotters left, but they seem to be doing alright now. Roland is doing better as well, though he's still feverish. His human half seems to slow down the virus.

I've been very frightened for Jaws. He bit a infected Huge Spider and has been very ill, but he's OK now. It must have been the poison that made him ill, not the virus. 

Thank you Lily, for offering to get me groceries, but I'm managing on my own. Besides, I'm not allowed to come near the castle, not with the virus roaming about. I hope Sirius hasn't done any stupid things lately. No offence meant, Sirius.

I'm sorry I can't tell you more. I haven't done much besides tending to and burying sick animals. Soon, I hope to invite you for  a cuppa again. I'm sure Remus will be over his cold by that time.

All the best,

Hagrid.

Lily sighed, then chuckled.

"What?"

"The Huge Spider episode. The way he writes it. 'Oh, I went wandering through the Forest and saw this awfully big spider—Jaws bit it and was ill, but it's only the poison so it's okay.' I still think that one of these days we'll see him breeding dragons." James laughed.

"No, that would be too dangerous, even for Hagrid."

"Ha!" Peter stroked Luncheon's small head. "Remember those baby Umberhulks he had? I wouldn't have all my fingers if Remus hadn't hit them away with the poker." James grinned.

"Yeah. That was the first time I've seen Hagrid angry. When Remus and Sirius were golfing with the umberhulklings. Though they didn't deserve any better. Nasty little critters."

"I've heard you can order them in expensive restaurants," Peter mused. "They taste just like lobsters."

"Eeew."

"It's true!"

"Oh, I believe you. It's just the idea that eating something that most probably ate the fingers of some poor boy makes me feel sick." Peter pulled a face.

"Eew indeed. I hadn't thought about it like that."

"Of course you hadn't." She stretched out one leg, prodded James's thigh with her toe and sighed.

"James? I'm bored."

"Yeah? Well, so am I. I can't help you, love. Unless you fancy being bored together?" Lily stuck out her tongue.

"You could play chess with me?"

"I suck at chess, and you know it. Ask Peter." Lily turned and prodded Peter, though not as intimately as she had prodded James.

"Peter? Will you play chess with me?" The smaller boy grinned.

"Sure," he said. They played chess until ten and went to bed.

The following day Snape remained elusive.

"Busy little bugger, isn't he?" James muttered, as he saw the Slytherin's tall, thin figure disappear around the corner again. "One wonders what he's doing all the time. Come to think of it, we haven't seen much of him these past few weeks, have we? Only during class, and even then he behaved most of the time."

"Devising a virus takes time." Sirius growled, and rubbed one of the hickeys just above his collar bone. Peter had already suggested he wear a turtleneck sweater, but Sirius had told him to mind his own business. If Sirius had been an Indian, he'd been walking around with war paint all over his face and chest. The hickey, James thought privately, was something a little like paint. It accentuated his intentions.

            And all they were were intentions, for while they chased Snape all day in between classes, he managed to outrun them every time again. At half past three Lily and Peter, who were least important for the 'showdown' as Sirius insisted on calling it, went to the infirmary for their daily visit to Remus, but Madam Pomfrey only allowed them a peek. Yet that one glance was enough to render Peter silent for five whole minutes, and make Lily's lip quiver.

"He looks like he's starving," she said accusingly, and the medical witch nodded.

"I know," she said.

"But…you're giving him soup, right? And Julie feeds him oranges and things…how can he grow so thin? And why does he look so much worse than yesterday? He was fine, yesterday…" But he wasn't. He wasn't fine at all.

"Lily." Poppy sighed. "Remus is…different than ordinary humans."

"I know."

"He needs more nourishment than a cup of soup and an orange a day. But he can't keep it inside, and I daren't give him more than just that one cup because if he vomits that up as well he won't eat anything." 

She stroked a loose hair out of her eyes, rubbed her face. She looked just as tired as Lily suddenly felt. Must've been watching over him this night as well.

"Did he have another bad night?" she asked. Poppy nodded. Her face twisted, and she looked away.

"What?" Lily asked, "What is it? Did something happen?"

"Yes. But that's unimportant now. Don't worry. But there's one thing. I think it would be better if you wouldn't visit him anymore. Not because you worsen his condition—although you do—but because I've got to be careful with the Sleeping draught now. I can't time waking hours anymore."

"What do you mean?" whispered Peter anxiously. The witch leaned her elbows on her desk.

"What I mean is that I have to be very careful dosing the Sleeping draught. The weaker someone becomes, the more potent the potion grows. It lasts longer than before, and I don't want to give him an overdose. Doses change, in time. The potion can even become dangerous, if the recipient grows weaker.

"I'm giving him the same doses I gave him one week ago, but it keeps him asleep for nine hours instead of six, now."

"But he might just be awake when we come to see him," Peter pleaded. "We can't just leave him all by himself, can we?" Madam Pomfrey smiled.

"If he's awake when you come to visit him, I'll let you through. But if he's asleep, I want you to respect that. The longer he's asleep, the better. At least he doesn't cough so much when he's sleeping."

They left in low spirits. Somehow, it had all seemed unreal, non-threatening, even while they both knew that Remus was very ill indeed. But now, it wasn't an adventure anymore. It was real.

"We really must speak to Snape," Lily muttered to herself.

They caught Snape a quarter to ten, close to McGonagall's office. Had they been thinking rationally, they would have thought better against attacking one of their fellow-students so near a professor's office, but two days of frustrated hunting, growing anger and a justified sense for revenge and violence had stripped even Lily of her gentle nature and mind for plans. When they saw Snape, a flash of silver appeared in Sirius's eyes, James growled, Lily gasped and Peter hissed 'There he is! Get him!'

Before Snape could turn or draw his wand, three boys and one girl launched themselves at his head, and he slammed against the floor without managing more than a surprised squeak.

"You bloody little git!" Sirius snarled, grabbing the dazed Slytherin by his collar and hauling him to his feet. "Now I've got you! And man, are you in trouble."

"Let me go…" Snape gurgled, but then the stronger boy began to shake him, and James punched him in the stomach, causing him to collapse in a heap, coughing.

"James!" Lily cried, but for once, James did not listen to her. His face, usually so pleasant and cheerful, was now tight and white with anger, eyes glittering like cold stones behind his glasses.

"Okay," he said. "Get him up."

Sirius threw Snape against the wall, twisted his fist into his robe.

"What…"

"Shut up, Snape. And listen. We know. We know you created the virus. We overheard you and Malfoy talking."

Snape's eyes grew large, first with fear, then with protest.

"You couldn't…"

"Shut up. We heard your conversation, and we know all about your little plans. And I don't know why or how, but I swear to god you're going to pay for it."

"I didn't…"

"Oh shut up!" Peter barked, like a small round pincher. He took a few steps towards Snape, glaring up at him with all the hatred his face was able to display. "I heard you, Snape, and I know exactly what you said. And what Lucius Malfoy said. You made the virus."

"Which means that you also know how to make a cure." hissed Sirius. He clenched his fingers tighter around the other boy's robes, not even feeling Snape's nails digging into his flesh.

"You heard it…wrong!" Snape grated, vainly kicking at Sirius's kneecaps. "I haven't… made…"

Sirius slammed his head against the wall, and he gave a cry of pain. Lily's hands balled to fists.

"Sirius, please!" But Sirius, just like James, was through with words.

"Listen, you son of a bitch," he gritted, nose almost touching beaky nose, "If you say that you haven't made the virus one more time, I'll break your jaw. I mean it. Got that?" 

The other boy nodded painfully. A small red spot on the wall slowly ran out and trailed to the stone below it.

"Fine." He coughed, managing to sound sarcastic even now. "So what…d'you want?"

"We want you to devise a cure." James took over. "We don't want Remus to die. And we want you to do it now."

Snape's nails drew bloody tracks over Sirius's hands as he tried to jerk them loose, "If you'd only let me talk, I could tell you that…"

He screamed as Sirius punched him on the chin and his head hit the wall again.

"If we'd wanted you to talk, I'd invited you over for bloody tea!" Sirius snarled. "You little bastard! Do you know how many magical animals you've killed? Did you like that? Did it make you feel powerful? Bastard…"

Somewhere a door clicked open.

"Sirius. Let him go," said James, tapping his friend's shoulder. Sirius's grip slackened, and Snape brought his hands to his head. As he touched the back of his head, his fingers came away red.

"Snape. You've been caught. We've got you, just as you feared we would. Peter heard you say so."

The black-haired boy glared at him, his eyes black as pitch in his pale face. One side of his mouth was puffing up like a bee sting. 

"You will make the cure to the virus, and then you will go to Dumbledore and…"

He stopped. The soft pit-patting of high-heeled shoes tapping on stone did not.

"And then what, mister Potter?" a tight, low feminine voice asked. "What will he do then?"

Peter squeaked and ducked behind Lily, who recoiled herself. Standing three metres behind them, features narrowed with anger, stood the tense figure of Professor McGonagall. James met her fire-sparking eyes with a cool, if somewhat shaken look.

"And then he'll be expelled." McGonagall's thin eyebrows lifted all the way into her hair.

"Oh, really?" she said. "And why might that be?"

"Because he's the one who made the virus." The eyebrows quivered, then swooped down in the most menacing frown they'd ever seen.

"Don't be ridiculous!" she spat.

"But Professor…"

"Be quiet, mister Black!" She stepped forward, separating Sirius from Snape altogether, inclined her head towards the Slytherin boy.

"Are you alright?" He gave a small nod. Sirius stamped his foot.

"But Professor, he's made the…"

"If you speak one more time without my permission, you'll be grounded for the next year," McGonagall hissed, with a warning flip of her wand. "How dare you pick a fight—and so close to my office! Twenty points from Gryffindor!

"You can go, mister Snape. Visit the infirmary, if you will." Snape nodded again, wincing a little. As he turned, Sirius emitted a soft, growling noise, and James glared at McGonagall with such unabashed anger that Lily was surprised she did not take another twenty points. Peter took a step in the direction Snape had taken, but the Professor called him back with a short,

"Stay here. You are coming with me. And unless you have an excellent explanation indeed, you will all be grounded for the next year." Pointing towards her office, she herded the Marauders along the hallway. 

As soon as they were inside, she closed the door, walked to her chair, sat down and steepled her fingers. The Marauders and Lily kept standing, not being invited to sit. McGonagall did not ask them to, either.

"Good," she said. "No, Sirius Black. You will keep quiet. I am very disappointed in you, in all of you. Be quiet, mister Pettigrew! Behaving like muggle toddlers, attacking mister Snape! Uht!" she held up her wand as James attempted to say something.

"I don't care for your reasons. I will not have students physically harassing each other, understood? And certainly not with so many against only one. If you have a quarrel or suspect a low deed or any other matter, you will contact a teacher first at all times, and if it is a personal matter, it will be settled by a duel. It will never take the form of this despicable violence. Have I made myself clear?"

Something in McGonagall's expression made them nod.

"Good. Now, tell me your preposterous allegations. No, not you, mister Black! Miss Evans. You seem the least hot-headed of them all."

Lily felt Sirius shake, where his arm touched hers, and she gave him a little nudge.

God, why me? But then she began,

"Professor. We have reason to believe…no, we're certain, that Snape's made the virus that killed so many magical creatures in the Forest, and that's made M-Remus so ill now."

All McGonagall did was raise her eyebrows. She took a deep breath and continued,

"Last Saturday, James and Peter and Sirius went to the Three Broomsticks. I stayed with Remus. It was raining rather badly. Um.

In the Three Broomsticks, they overheard a conversation between Snape and Malfoy, and…"

"Malfoy?" McGonagall asked.

"Lucius Malfoy, Professor. James and Sirius recognised him. Anyway, he was talking to Snape, and Peter heard what they were saying. He…" she halted as her teacher held up her hand and turned to Peter, who deflated visibly.

"You heard what they were talking about, mister Pettigrew?"

"Y-yes, Professor."

"Why you alone and not the others as well?" Peter grew red, but drew himself up as high as he could.

"I'm the smallest of us," he said, truthfully. "I managed to come close enough to hear them."

"You spied on them."

"Yes ma'am."

"Why?"

"Be-because he's Snape! And he was talking to Malfoy? We thought…we thought that was weird, because why should he be in contact with Malfoy? He's a Slytherin!" he concluded, as if that explained everything, including the Marauders' reason for wanting to know what they were saying—which it did, to Peter. Slytherins were to be mistrusted, and to see two of them talking in a pub was more than enough reason to spy on them. 

McGonagall gave a small, understanding nod that she tried to hide as soon as she had given it.

"I see. How mature. And you heard every word they said?"

"Yes Professor."

"So tell me what you heard."

"First, I heard them talking about some sort of tattoo, a mark, which Snape didn't want to have and Malfoy said that his master wanted him to have." At that, the witch lost the tight expression of livid anger.

"What did you say?" she said. "A tattoo? Did you say Mark?" Peter nodded hastily, glad for the absence of the frown.

"Yes, a mark. On the arm. A tattoo of a skull with snakes, Snape called it."

"I see." She paused a few seconds, then waved her fingers. "Go on."

"Then Malfoy asked how Snape was doing with his second task, and Snape said that…um, what was it exactly…he had taken over from Dorkham, because D-professor Dorkham had started it all wrong, like an ordinary flu, and Snape was proud to say that he'd made a very nasty virus." As he spoke, Peter's short hair bristled.

"And then he said that 'the werewolf' had taken ill, and that's Remus, and that he'd die if he didn't get the antidote very soon, and Malfoy said, "Then let him die."" He stared the Professor straight in the eye. "And that's what I heard, and that's why we attacked Snape. He's made the virus. We want him to make a cure for it. And maybe we should've gone to you or to Professor Dumbledore first, but…"

"He deserved it." Sirius growled. "Lying Slytherin scum. I should have…"

"Be quiet, mister Black," McGonagall said tiredly. She combed her fingers through her hair, upsetting a few strands from her immaculate bun.

"Professor," James hesitated, but since she did not interrupt him, he went on, "We know what we heard. Snape's under Malfoy's orders, and Malfoy's taking orders from somebody else again. Someone he calls his Master. But Snape…"

"Snape did not make the virus."

"But I heard…" She shook her head.

"No, mister Pettigrew. Peter. You misheard whatever you think they said. Professor Dorkham has been working on a cure for the virus for the past month, and it is true, he has not made much progress. But he certainly did not attempt to make the virus, nor is he dabbling on purpose.

"I agree that Professor Dorkham is a…difficult man. An unpleasant man, even. But I do trust him and his work completely." She took a deep breath.

"As I do mister Snape's." 

Three young men and one young woman gaped at her.

"What…what did you say?" whispered James. A tiny smile wrinkled the corners of McGonagall's mouth.

"I trust mister Snape's work." she repeated. "He has been working on a cure for several weeks now. And he has been making great progress."

"But…SNAPE?" Sirius howled. "Snape's working on a cure? But that's impossible! He made the bloody virus! If he…"

"Do be quiet, mister Black, unless you want me to silence you…thank you." She leaned back in her chair, resting her hands on the table.

"A few weeks after the virus outbreak, Professor Dorkham approached me with an unusual request. He had been working on a cure for the virus for a few days, but did not know whether he was on the right track. He asked me to give the virus to a certain student, a young man who was unusually gifted with potions and had a keen eye for diseases and curses. His idea was to take the student apart and tell him that he would be given a test. If he succeeded, he would be given a grant for whatever he wanted to study after Hogwarts. The sole restrictions would be that said student would have to keep absolutely silent about his test, and that he would take the utmost caution working with it. 

"This young man, of course, was mister Snape." 

James shook his head.

"But then…then it makes even more sense! First, devise a virus nobody can kill, then suggest to Dorkham…"

"No, mister Potter!" McGonagall spat. "It did not go that way! Mister Snape is innocent. He did not create the virus, nor did he suggest Professor Dorkham to appoint him as a viralist. We have made certain that…" she paused, then went on in a softer voice, "Rest assured that we have taken certain precautions. Mister Snape did not create the virus, but he is busy devising a cure.

"Now, I don't know where Lucius Malfoy fits in, in this picture, and you may be certain that I will have a word with Mister Snape on the subject. Me, mister Black, not you! You will go and see mister Snape and apologise to him first thing tomorrow—as will you, mister Potter!"

"No way," said Sirius. McGonagall's mouth all but disappeared.

"Oh yes, you will. You will seek him out and apologise tomorrow morning. If you have not begged forgiveness for your appalling behaviour before breakfast, I will publicly announce that you have something to say to mister Snape, and then you can do it in front of the rest of the school. Do you understand me, mister Black?"

If looks could kill, McGonagall would have been stone dead.

"Right." He barked, finally. "I'll apologise to the stupid git, and I hope he'll choke on it."

Okay, Lily thought. It's nice to've known you, Sirius. I'll see you when you're done scrubbing the outer walls of the castle.

But to her amazement, McGonagall did not flay Sirius alive. She merely nodded.

"Good. Then off with you. Straight to bed. I will take no more points from Gryffindor—even though I should. But only because of mister Lupin. I can understand that his condition has made you all behave a little erratically."

Blatant Gryffindor favouritism. Lily thought, hiding a smile. No matter how dry she appears to be, there's something juicy yet about Minerva.

"Good night, Professor," she said demurely, and caught the woman's slight smile before it disappeared again. James and Peter nodded as well. But Sirius stamped out of the room without saying anything, and hit his head against the wall a few times before he followed the rest to the dormitory.

"I so despise Snape," he said despairingly as they ascended the stairs. "Making us think that he created the virus while he was in fact making a cure. You'll see, his master's some kind of charity leader with a perverse idea for skin fashion, and Malfoy's her lover, and…oh, that bastard! The very thought of that smug face of his…I'll kill him!"

James grinned, be it weakly.

"Not before he's cured Moony." Sirius glared at him, then banged his head against the wall once more.

"Don't do that, love," the Fat Lady said reproachfully. "It gives the most irritating echoes."

"Fuck off," Sirius growled unhappily.

"That isn't the password!" crowed the painting.

Hahahaaaa! (at least I hope so. I know of at least one person who already knew Peter misheard.) Hope I did fool some of you, though : )

Next chapter: James and Sirius apologise, Cynthia goes to Saint Mungo's (finally!) and…hm. Maybe more hospital stuff. No more fluff though. He's way too ill for that (does little dance of cruelty).


	22. VIRUS 22

I am sorry, all of you! A whole week and no updates. I've just been to busy, and my dad's in the hospital and all kinds of unpleasant stuff…But today I've been writing diligently, and here is another important chapter. Thanks for all your loyal reviews! I spent a few minutes at work to see how many I've got (am I not bad : ) Here's chapter 22!

22. Cynthia

James managed to literally tackle Snape just before he walked into the great hall for breakfast. The Slytherin had obviously been to see Madam Pomfrey; his lower lip was back to normal, and he walked without the difficulty caused by head trauma, as he had yesterday. His reflexes had only improved after yesterday's misunderstanding: he had whipped out his wand before James or Sirius could get a word out.

"Back off," he snarled, scrambling to his feet, "before I turn you into something unnatural." Sirius snorted.

"Fat chance, Snape. Anyway, you can put your stick away. We've come to apologise. So here it is, I'm very sorry for bashing your head against the wall and for thinking you'd made the virus. Have a good day." He turned around, leaving Snape standing there with his back against the wall, legs tensed to jump and wand-hand quivering with readiness. Snape blinked.

"Excuse me?" he said. A small smirk twisted his mouth. "What did you just say? I didn't quite catch it."

"You did, you son of a bitch!" Sirius growled, balling his fist, but James held him back.

"What he said," he began, taking a deep breath to steady himself, "is that we're sorry for attacking you last night. Even though it's your own fault. You shouldn't speak ambiguously, especially to Malfoy." 

Snape grinned. He straightened up a little, although he did not put his wand away.

"McGonagall. She's told you to apologise, right?"

"That's right." Sirius spat. "And I'd say we've done our best."

"Oh really. You call this an apology?"

"Yes? You don't?" Snape licked his upper lip.

"Nooooo…I don't, really. I call this a pitiful excuse for an excuse. Here I am, working day and night to make a cure for your canine friend, and you hit me a concussion." A sharp sliver of anger cut through the sarcasm of his words. "Madam Pomfrey had to heal me, last night. I had to lie down flat on my back all night, while I should have been working on the cure. 

"You know what, Black—and you too, Potter?" He took a step forward.

"If I can't finish this cure in time to save your precious Moony, it's your fault! So you'd better make sure I accept your apology, because you sure as hell owe me one!"

James froze.

"We owe you an apology? What about Lucius Malfoy? Or can you swear that he didn't tell you to let Moony die?" Snape's upper lip pulled up in a sneer.

"You know what? Shove it. I don't care about your apology. You'll only believe what you think is the truth." He crammed his wand back into his pocket, eyes shooting daggers.

"Do you think I care one bit about Lucius Malfoy? Or his great plans with me? I have my reasons for wanting to make the cure to this virus, and those reasons are mine alone! But I will make this cure, and it will work! So if you'll get out of my bloody way, I haven't got time to waste talking to you!"

He began to walk.

"Snape, wait!"

Snape kept on walking. James broke into a trot until he came up beside him, Sirius following, a little more slowly.

"Hey, wait!" He grabbed Snape's sleeve, then released it quickly. "Look. I'm sorry. I really am. We shouldn't have hit you, okay? But when we heard that you were to let Remus die…"

"You should have known that there is a big difference between what people hear and what is actually said." Snape said curtly. He nodded.

"Fine. I accept your apology. Now get lost, Potter. Rest assured that I'll pay you back as soon as I can."

And with that, he entered the great hall and walked over to the safety of the Slytherin tables.

Professor Kettleburn, during Care of Magical Creatures, introduced the Augurey, a small, sad-looking vulture-like bird. They all thought it somewhat uninteresting until it began to sing, or rather cry. Some of the girls burst into tears at the first low lament and even Sirius sank into depression as it kept on moaning. After casting one look at his sobbing, downcast class, Professor Kettleburn handed them hankies and performed a cheering spell. The Augurey was caught in a fine net and placed in its cage. A few minutes later the pupils went off, whistling and giggling, and spent the rest of the hour playing hide and seek.

That evening, Sirius said a long and overly mushy good bye to Cynthia.

"She's only going to the hospital, Sirius," Peter said, when he finally came back to the dormitory, only a few minutes to ten. "For one day. Not for a year." Sirius shrugged.

"I just wanted to make sure she wouldn't forget to take a look at the Mungo books. Maybe she can find something on viruses." James shook his head.

"The books are gibberish. She won't be able to even read the title."

"Who knows. She might just be the lucky lady. Wasn't Mungo a viralist too? Maybe his books can only be read by viralists."

"He was a Healer, not a viralist." Lily knew. "We just had a chapter on him during MA. Did you know that he was into Dark Magic as well? Because so many of his friends died in that war. He kept trying to find a way to resurrect them."

"Poor bugger," James said, without much feeling. "Maybe he's related to Binns. Oh no, but Binns's dead." He swayed his leg, attempting to kick Sirius against the shins. Sirius frowned and pulled his legs up. "Why on earth would you want to try and live forever if you can become a perfectly fine ghost?"

"Because you can't do a single magical thing—or any thing at all when you are a ghost?" Lily said. "All you can do is talk. And only if you died violently. So no, thank you, I'd take a resurrection spell at any time."

"It's enough for Binns." Peter said somberly.

"We could try to exorcise him," Sirius mused. "But wait, Binns didn't die violently. He died as calmly as is humanly possible. Any more calmly and…well, never mind. He talks."

"Pure dedication can turn one into a ghost too," Lily recited from memory. "Although obsession works better."

"From which we can conclude that Binns was obsessed with boring people." Sirius said, and yawned. "I'm not interested in Binns. Did you manage to see Remus?"

Peter and James shook their heads.

"We tried, but he was sleeping. And Annie Lummox, that silly third year, had been hexed and her tongue was about eight foot long, so Poppy sent us away. She wouldn't even let us look at him. Not that that would have made anyone feel better, of course…"

"No…"

They looked up when Will came in.

"Am I interrupting something? Again?" Lily grinned.

"No, you aren't for a change. We were just wishing Remus would be here, and being sentimental." Will sat down on Peter's bed, nodding.

"He's been ill for an awfully long time now, hasn't he? They still don't know what he's got?"

"Pneumonia." James said with a straight face. They had all decided that that was the best reply to questions like these. "Bad case of it."

"Ah. I had pneumonia too, when I was about six. I was ill for about one week, but it took me more than a month to get back to my feet. Poor Remus. I should visit him one time."

"He can't have any visitors." said Peter sadly. "He's too ill."

"Damn."

"Yeah."

Lily rose to her feet.

"I must get going. If we're going to face the Kraken tomorrow I really need to be calm and rested." She smiled, kissed James on the cheek (he grabbed her braid and made her kiss him properly) ruined Sirius's hair, petted Peter and waved at Will.

"See you tomorrow!"

"Night, Lily!"

"Night!" She skipped out of the room, and James sighed.

"The Kraken. Right. I forgot, with all that Snape stuff."

"Snape stuff?"

"Oh, nothing. We just kicked Snape's ass, and McGonagall found out," Sirius provided easily. He pulled his sweater over his head, rubbed a discoloured hickey. "She made us apologise. It was highly embarrassing. Especially for us."

He looked outside, searching for the moon. After a few minutes it appeared between two large clouds. 

"Still a Cheshire Cat grin, but a pretty broad grin," he muttered, then pulled the curtains closed. "I hope he gets better real soon. I'd even bring Snape a bunch of flowers."

Will's eyebrows rose all the way into his hair.

"What on earth are you talking about?" Sirius smiled.

"Hippie love, my friend. Full moons, tree-hugging delinquents and hippie love."

"Right." Will said, edging away and into his bed. "Good night. Sleep it off, that's a good boy."

"That's what we keep hoping, but it never works." Peter said. He pulled the curtains of his bed closed. "Good night people. See you tomorrow."

*

In the infirmary, Annie Lummox's tongue was shrinking, and she lay comfortably sleeping, the now three foot long appendage rolled up on her chest.

The ICU was dark, but in Madam Pomfrey's office a soft light shone through the curtains. The silhouettes of a tall, thin man and a well-formed woman played like Wajang dolls over the folds of fabric. They were speaking softly, but Remus could hear them nevertheless. The door was ajar.

"…sent three owls already, but they all came back, the message still attached. They must be far abroad, if even these owls cannot find them." came Poppy's voice. Dumbledore's gentle rumble was easier to hear.

"Well, they are researchers of Magical Creatures. Have you contacted the Ministry yet?"

My parents. They're talking about my parents. So she's tried to notify mom that I was ill? Well of course she would have. I'm dying, right?

Remus blinked. His eyes felt hot, eyelids rasping over his eyes like sandpaper. His whole body felt hot, hot and tight, as if his skin was stretched too tightly over his flesh. He had only just woken up, fallen out of one of those dreams about his mother. He dreamt about her quite often, when the sleeping potion started to wear off. And his dreams were seldom pleasant, these days.

"I tried, but they would not tell me anything. And he's getting worse by the day."

"You shouldn't give up hope, my dear. I have the fullest confidence in you." Poppy sighed.

"I'm glad you do, sir, because I, for me, am losing faith. It's…it's just so hopeless! I try everything I can, I've fed that boy things I wouldn't use to drug a horse, but it just doesn't help! I haven't been able to bring his fever down for two days, and though he hasn't vomited once today, I couldn't make him eat anything either." Her voice became so soft Remus had to strain to hear her, "I'm losing him, sir. He's a strong boy, but with this high fever and the infection in his lungs…I'm losing him. And not being able to contact his parents…what if he dies? They'd come home and find him dead. I need to warn them, to find them. They must come over!"

"Calm, my dear. I will see what I can do. Perhaps young Lupin himself knows where they are?"

I do. Although, not really. I know that they are in Tibet, but I don't know where…

He moved his head to find a cold spot on his pillow, then moaned softly as the throbbing in his temples flared up again. 

Cut it out…stop that. Just stop hurting me, okay?

Something responded to that. Remus liked to think that it was the virus itself, that he could threaten it into submission. The pain lessened, if only a little.

"I didn't want to ask him. He knows what it implies." Dumbledore sounded amused, and Remus shared his mirth as he said, "Please, Poppy. I'm quite sure that Remus knows exactly in what position he is. He is a clever boy, and quite down to earth. Not asking him for an address will only unnecessarily slow them down. Ask him tomorrow, when he's awake."

"Alright."

Remus coughed, silencing the sound in his cupped hands. He lost a few sentences because of the red-hot pain in his head, but after a while it relented a bit, and he perked his ears again. Madam Pomfrey was speaking.

"…know you cannot really cure him, but…maybe if you could give him a little more energy. He needs time, sir, more time than I can buy him with pills and potions. You say that Dorkham and his assistant are making progress, but you've said that for the last week. I really need some proof, and soon!"

"I know. But I assure you that it is only a matter of days, now."

"But how many days? The full moon is only two and a half weeks away, and if he hasn't been cured by then, he will die, sir, and then nothing will save him."

"Four days. Less, with a little luck. That's what he told me."

"Dorkham?"

"The assistant. But of course I can always try to lend young mister Lupin some strength. If all else fails, every day, if necessary. Although you know it will not heal him, only give him a brief respite from the fever."

"That's all he needs, sir. Apart from a full recovery."

"Very well, then."

Poppy pushed the door open further, letting the Headmaster go in first. A ray of light shone precisely on Remus's thin face, and she hastily closed the door behind her. He was lying on his back, the upper part of his body propped up with pillows, not curled up, trying to get as much oxygen as possible. His breathing was fast and raspy, and the gleam of his eyes told her that he was awake.

And heard everything, no doubt.

"Hello, Remus," she said gently. The boy smiled faintly in return. His already broad mouth now seemed to run from jaw to jaw, his face was so thin.

"Hey." he whispered. "Midnight…visit?" Dumbledore laughed.

"Still aware of time, are we, mister Lupin?" But the smile drooped quickly as he regarded the werewolf, taking in the fever-glazed eyes and the skeletal fingers resting on top of the covers.

"It isn't midnight yet, though. Only ten-ish."

"Close enough," whispered Remus. He began to cough, bent double on the bed, one arm pressed against his stomach, the other cupping his mouth. It took a long time until he let himself drop back again, gasping, leaving dark smudges on the sheets where he wiped his hand.

            The first time he had coughed up blood, it was little more than a drop, just enough to spread the salt tang of its taste through his mouth. That same evening, when he tasted it again, he had licked his pillow and stared with a faint sense of terror at the small pink stripe. Now, two days later (he thought; despite what Dumbledore had said, his awareness of time was not as accurate as it had been) those coughing fits stained most of his palm bright red. That was another reason why he had asked Madam Pomfrey to extinguish the candles in the corner. The dark did not hurt his eyes, but it also kept him from seeing his own blood on the sheets and the handkerchiefs.

Dumbledore either had excellent eyes, or sensed the blood—or perhaps his whole figure was now so pitiful it elected nothing but worry—for he sat down on the edge of the bed, rested his hand against Remus's forehead—blissfully cold, that hand!—and asked, "Blood?"

Remus nodded.

"Since when?"

"Two days…or yesterday? I don't know…"

"Yesterday," Madam Pomfrey informed. "But it is growing steadily worse."

"My parents are…in Tibet." Remus muttered, sighing as Dumbledore moved his hand to the other side of his forehead. "Don't know…where. Sorry…"

"It's quite alright, my boy. Don't worry about it. We'll find them. The Ministry is bound to have an address."

"Martha would know," Remus mumbled, and swallowed to fend off another bout of coughing. "But she's a vulture, and she's…probably flown back already, so…"

"It's alright." Dumbledore pulled his hand back, and Remus almost followed after it, but he pushed him back into his pillows.

"Remus. I'm going to try and bring your fever down a little."

"Like Cynthia?"

"Cynthia?"

"Miss Catterwall," provided Madam Pomfrey. "She tried to heal him with her viralist powers. She did not succeed."

"Ah," Dumbledore nodded. "Yes. The talented miss Catterwall."

"Not so talented." Remus snapped weakly. In the half-dark, he saw the Headmaster smile.

"You don't particularly like her, I understand?"

"No. She's a fake." At that, the professor shook his head.

"No, my boy, you're mistaken. Miss Catterwall is a viralist indeed, a true natural healer, unlike her aunt Mercy, whom I used to know when I taught her Defence Against the Dark Arts, many years ago. The fact that she could not heal you isn't her fault.

'I must tell you that I cannot heal you either. I can heal small wounds and the odd sprain or clean fracture, but your condition, I'm afraid, is far beyond my capability. But I can give you some strength, and a few hours of dreamless sleep. If you would allow me."

The boy smiled.

"What if I wouldn't?"

"Then I wouldn't do it. But I hope you will allow me to give you…"

"I do. I'm…sorry. I was just…" He was coughing again, and Poppy patted his back as he convulsed, coughing and coughing, choking on the fluid in his lungs.

As he lay back into the pillows, tears of pain ran down his cheeks, pain in his chest and pain in his head, accompanied by the never-ceasing pain in his stomach. He tried not to sob, but he could hardly breathe, and his breath came out in painful gasps.

"Easy," Dumbledore said, gently easing him back. "Easy. Concentrate on my hands. Can you feel them?"

He could; two cool points of pressure on his breast, fingers brushing his collar bones, heels touching his chest bone. Two lovely spots of cold on his burning body, spreading slowly as he concentrated on their pressure.

"Hey…?" he whispered, but Madam Pomfrey shushed him.

"Just concentrate on his hands, Remus. Lie still."

As he waited, obediently concentrating, with Dumbledore sitting there beside him with his hands on his chest as if he were a stove and the older man wanted to warm his hands, the coolness spread all over his body, from his chest to his stomach, to his legs, to his arms, his neck, his head. It was like the reverse of the worn-off Cooling Potion: as if he were slowly being immersed in cool water, no, as if his hot blood were mixed with ice water. It was a wonderful feeling, took all the pain away and left only cool nothingness.

            He wasn't aware of falling asleep, but when the Headmaster spoke again, his voice seemed to come from a great distance.

"This is about as much as I can do. I believe the fever has gone, now?"

And Poppy's voice, even further away,

"Yes. Yes! Indeed! Thank you, sir. Thank you…"

And then Dumbledore's reply was a hum, and her words a higher buzz, and then his consciousness winked out, and he slept.

*

The following morning, Sirius stared several times in the direction of the Ravenclaw table. Cynthia, of course, was not there. She had left at half past eight, travelling to the Hogwarts Main Gate and apparating from there.

"I'm sure she'll be more than fine on her own," James said. "So you can eat your toast without sighs or moans and worried looks." Sirius frowned.

"You make me sound like a lovesick lunatic."

"Well, you behave as one! Here you go again, looking at her seat. She's not here, Sirius! But she'll be back! Maybe a little late for your afternoon shag, but soon enough!" Sirius grinned.

"Afternoon shag, eh? I never thought about that….Good idea, James!"

"Oh please! Just eat your breakfast, will you?"

A few seats further, Lily chuckled.

"He doesn't want to eat? What, is he pining? I thought only people of noble blood could pine after a loved one. Like Tristan and Isolde." Sirius took a great gulp of coffee, shot her a poisonous glare.

"I'm no noble girlipants, thank you very much. And I'm not pining. I'm…"

"Sexually frustrated?"

"Not half as much as you, Peter. At least I am getting any, whereas you…"

"Then why is that Slytherin girl over there ogling me with such lecherous eyes?" James, Sirius, Will and Lily turned their heads into his directions so fast they all looked like a synchronised clockwork.

"What Slytherin girl?"

Peter blushed, then nodded at the Slytherin table.

"There. The blonde-haired girl with the dark eyes."

"Looks like a snake in a wig."

"Go away, Sirius. You're just jealous. She's quite lovely! In a terribly slick, sinuous sort of way…"

"She is looking at you, isn't she?" Lily concluded with relish. "And with more than usual interest too, I might add. Or is she looking at James?"

James ducked beneath the table. The girl's eyes did not waver.

"No, she isn't. Sirius, your turn."

Sirius ducked as well.

"Nope, definitely Peter." Four pairs of curious eyes fastened on Peter's steadily reddening face.

"Why on earth could she be looking at you, Peter? Did you steal anything from her? Beat up her little sister?"

"No, I didn't. I don't even know her! I just caught her staring at me, that's all." Sirius chewed on an end of sausage.

"That's what they all say."

"You're just jealous."

"Jealous? Of Peter's Slytherin? With a perfectly beautiful Ravenclaw…"

"…not present at the moment?" James laughed. "You're almost green with envy."

Sirius's grin turned a little nasty.

"Really. So, what shall I do about that? Ask the little snake why she's staring at Peter? Who knows what kind of secrets she might divulge…"

"Nooo!" cried Peter. He grabbed Sirius's arm. "Don't do that! Please, don't ask her…" There was true fear in his voice, and Sirius sat back, a trifle shaken by that fear.

"I was only joking. Don't sweat it."

"Right."

"I was!"

"Okay. I believe you."

An uncomfortable silence threatened, occurred, and was broken by Lily as she placed her cutlery on her empty plate.

"Potions time, boys. Time to hit the cauldron."

"Yeah." James agreed, obviously relieved she had broken the silence. "Let's not be late for our favourite subject. Our Petrification potion's waiting."

"Impatiently," Lily added. Peter smiled.

"Then let's not keep it waiting."

He stood up, grabbed his satchel.

"You guys coming?"

Lily, Will and James nodded. Sirius stared at his plate.

"You go on ahead." James whispered loudly. "I'll talk some sense into him. You know, a heart so swollen with love, sometimes gives people heartburn." 

Sirius smiled, invisible to the others.

Heartburn, yeah, that's a good one. Acid. Though it's in my voice more than in my stomach. Damn. Why is Peter afraid of me? Am I that awful to him?

He looked up as James placed one hand on his arm.

"Why're you still here? I told you I'd come after you." James tapped him on the nose.

"You need guidance, my friend. 'You are wandering, and my brightly shining light of wisdom will show you the right way.' Electra Lightning, paraphrased."

"You're an idiot." The other boy laughed.

"See if I care! Now come on and stop moping. And stop bullying Peter. He needs a love life. Or at least another issue. With you stealing away Cynthia, he needs another girl to spy on."

Sirius laughed.

"Yeah, Peter's issues. I forgot all about them."

"You've been kinda preoccupied. With one of Peter's former issues, I might add. That's why you scared him so much just now. You've left him alone for so long now he can't help but suspecting a terrible return." He pulled his friend to his feet. "Now come along or we'll be late. And I don't want to get on Dorkham's bad side. Not even on a positive side either, as a matter of fact…"

"Who knows how sweet and caring old Valentine would be." Sirius mused aloud, grinning wickedly. The gloom had lifted from his eyes. "I'm sure he has all the nice accessories, lubrication, swelling potions, you name it." James snorted.

"You have a sick mind, you know that?"

"Sure. Proud of it too."

"Proud during detention, if you don't hurry up. Come on! I thought you wanted to get your marks up!" Sirius grinned.

"All in due times, Prongs. All in due time."

And the day passed rather pleasantly, including Defence Against the Dark Arts and the Kraken, which turned out to be huge but also incredibly lazy, and preferred a sizable chunk of meat above a prodding wizard. 

            For convenience's sake the monstrous squid-like anomaly had been temporarily harvested in the Lake, where it had become friends with the Giant Squid, disregarding the latter's lack of teeth. Perhaps the Kraken's enormous amount of teeth made up for the toothlessness of the squid's. All pupils were standing around the lake, watching the two monsters through glasses that were enchanted to penetrate the water all the way to the bottom. They could see perfectly well the Kraken's armoured hide, the many lethal tentacles, the fanged mouth and the diamond-pupilled eye that was the source of the Kraken's magic and defence system, but at the moment nothing much happened. The Kraken was chewing on a piece of meat that had probably belonged to a cow, and stroked the Squid with a tender tentacle.

"Won't it eat the Squid?" a Slytherin boy asked. Dumbledore beamed.

"No, it won't. I imagine it feels a certain kinship with our Squid, because they are both rare beasts and have the same ancestry." He prodded the Kraken again, electing an irritated swipe with a tentacle which created a wave that soaked half of his class, and himself.

"Did you see that movement? That was a spell. The movement alone would not have been enough to create a wave like that. The Kraken subconsciously casts a spell whenever it feels threatened or irritated—spells designed to drown the offending party. If you ever happen to run into a Kraken (which, I admit, is highly unlikely), be sure to consume gilliweed and spokensworth to be able to speak below water level. The Kraken can only be defeated or even survived if the wizard can either counterspell its spells, or disapparate. Therefore…"

He stopped. A large, snowy white owl had swooped down from the sky, landing precisely on his shoulder. It had a message tied to its leg.

"Oh." Dumbledore frowned. "I wasn't expecting any messages. Oh well, if you'll excuse me." He fumbled with the ribbon, hindered by his wet hands, and uttered an exclamation of annoyance as the piece of parchment was blown out of his hand. Sirius caught it, and looked down on it. 

"It's from Saint Mungo's." he said, giving it back.

"It is? Thank you. It would have been most unpleasant if it had fallen into the lake…" He had unrolled the parchment. The smile bled away from his face.

"O dear," he said softly. "I'm afraid…we'll have to adjourn this class for the moment."

And it seemed to Sirius that Dumbledore looked at him, and at him alone, as he said, "There has been an explosion at the hospital."

There! Next week: what happened to Cynthia? Maybe more about Remus too, or maybe the chapter after that. We are coming closer to the end, though. Phew!

My computer is ticking. Is that a bad omen?


	23. VIRUS 23

Thanks to the new reviewers (and of course the old faithful ones!) Mar, I didn't just stop at that point. I write about a chapter a week, which ranges from five to one time twelve pages. This chapter is rather short, I know, but I haven't got enough time to write more this weekend, so I'll post what I have now. It's enough for a chapter, I think. Sirius being slightly angsty, and another Slytherin-Gryffindor battle. A hint at Peter's Weaver-night activities. Enjoy!

23. Sirius fretting

Sirius's face drained of all colour.

"What?" he said hoarsely. "An explosion?"

The Headmaster nodded.

"I have to go there right now."

"But…what about Cynthia?" Dumbledore tapped the piece of parchment.

"It doesn't say. Mrs Halberdash only wrote to me that there was an explosion, and that my presence was required."

"I'm coming with you." He had already taken off his glasses and handed his satchel to James, who took it without question. Dumbledore shook his head.

"You have classes to attend."

"Like hell!" Sirius snarled. "Not if…"

"Mister Black! I do not give you permission to leave the school grounds!"

"But what if she's…"

"There is no mention of miss Catterwall, none at all."

"She could be missing, or hurt, or…or even dead and I want to come with you." He cast a quick look at the snickering Slytherins, bit his lip and said, "Please, sir. Let me come with you."

"I regret to…"

"But sir!"

"No, mister Black." The twinkle had left the old wizard's eyes. "And that is my final word. You will stay here and attend your classes. As soon as I return, I will explain to the school what has happened."

"But Cynthia…" wailed Sirius. One of the Slytherin girls muttered something, which made her friends giggle. He ignored them.

"You will know as soon as I've returned. Did you want to ask something, Miss Mincing?" The girl shook her head.

"No, sir."

"Good. You can all go now. For next week, write a two scroll essay about the Kraken, and don't hesitate to go into detail about the magical abilities. Class dismissed."

He pulled his water-glasses from his nose and tucked them into a hidden pocket, turned around and stalked away.

"Fuck!" Sirius said, pushing his fists into his robes' pockets so hard the cloth creaked. "Fuck!"

Marjorie Mincing, the Slytherin girl, cast him a contemptuous look.

"Afraid your little Ravenclaw whore got her pretty hair burned? Why on earth would you care, Black? You'll screw everything, as long as it's female. A burn or two shouldn't make any difference." 

Peter grabbed Sirius's arms to keep him from hitting Marjorie while Lily took out her wand the same time as James did; their voices rang out at the same moment, even though the spells differed.

"Transformato!"

"Silentio, you foulmouthed bitch!"

An extremely large cockroach appeared on the place where black-haired Marjorie had been standing only a second before, soundlessly clicking her pincers. Several Slytherins let out a dull roar.

"Potterrrr….!"

"You Evans bimbo!"

And then the simultaneous: "GET THEM!!!" from both parties, Gryffindor and Slytherin. Fourteen young wizards and witches whipped out their wands and started a grand multi-dual.

"Stupefy!"

"Wingardium leviosa!"

"Petrifio!"

"Lardo!"

"Expelliarmus!"

"Let me go!" Sirius barked furiously, yanking at Peter's arm. "I'll make 'em pay for that remark!" His dark eyes were shooting sparks, and every time he tugged, Peter was lifted off his feet. An angry Sirius was very hard to constrain.

Sidh Patil dodged a curse and hexed Cress Dominus so that his nose grew so large so fast the boy fell face-down into the muddy grass.

James turned Selma Denkil into a hedgehog, but made a mistake, and he gave a yell of pain as she rolled her body into a ball, launched herself at him and pushed her foot-long barbs into his hands. His wand fell out of his fingers and he went after it, swearing.

Will fell as one of the first, sprouting nettles in his hair; but his sister took his place and cursed Keith Sujet with such vehemence that he fell right into the Lake and had to be saved from the Kraken by his fellow Slytherins.

Sirius was running after the cockroach that still wore mascara, waving a hammer he had transfigured out of a small stick, screaming, "Stand still, bitch, and die!" But someone had hexed his legs and all he could do was hop, and the cockroach skittered away, still clicking soundlessly.

            The only one who did not participate in this curse and hex fest, was Snape. He stood looking at the whole lot of them for a while, bushy eyebrows raised and a small smile on his face, but after a few minutes he walked back to the castle—to his antidote, Peter hoped.

The small round boy was standing a little to the edge of the battle, just like a few other slighter or weaker pupils, keeping an eye out for the expected and feared figure of McGonagall or any other teacher. One of those figures was the flaxen-haired Slytherin girl that had been staring at him during breakfast. He smiled at her. She pulled up her upper lip in return.

"Stupid Gryffindor." she spat.

"Detestable Slytherin." he called back good-naturedly, and then she smiled as well.

"Good for nothing idiot."

"Traitorous serpent."

"Um…insufferable muggle-lover."

"Good one. Soft-headed ho."

"I'm no ho! Despicable elephant!" Peter laughed.

"Demented hag!"

"Stinking mammal!"

"Unfamiliar starer!" She blinked.

"What?"

"Well, you did stare at me all morning." Peter said apologetically. "And I don't even know your name." She pouted.

"Alexis Descard. You didn't even remember me?"

"Alexis?" He could vaguely remember that name. Which was bad. A Gryffindor wasn't supposed to remember a Slytherin's first name, even if he was allowed to forget her last name. Alexis giggled, softly at first, then steadily louder.

"God," she said. "And I thought I was drunk!"

A terrible sense of fear crawled down Peter's spine.

"What are you talking about?"

At that moment one of the other watchers gave a warning cry.

"Madam Hooch! Hooch's coming! Scatter!"

Alexis made to run away, but Peter, with uncharacteristic presence of mind, grabbed her arm.

"What were you talking about? Tell me!" The girl grinned, a grin that was indeed a little snakey and slick.

"Mud." she said, and pulled her arm free. "Weavers, purple pills, alcohol and mud. I'm glad you can't remember. Bye, short-recollected Gryffindor!"

*

Sirius fretted. He bit his nails during Arithmetic, did not pay any attention during Plays and Poetry and did not hit a single Bludger during Quidditch practice. James had never seen him this frantic, and it frightened him a little. Sure, he was worried about Cynthia as well, but it seemed to eat Sirius alive, and that was so unlike him that James was worried. At one moment, while Liza Wood was busy discussing a certain figure with her fellow seeker, he flew up to where his friend was hovering in front of one of the hoops.

"She's okay, you'll see." He said, patting Sirius's shoulder with a bandaged hand. The small, deep wounds of Selma's quills were difficult to heal for Lily, and he didn't feel like seeing Madam Pomfrey. They had only just escaped being caught by Madam Hooch; turning up in the Infirmary would be sheer idiocy.

"Otherwise Dumbledore would've reacted differently." Sirius shook his head.

"He didn't tell us what was in the letter, did he?" 

"No. But he looked troubled, not shocked."

"But this Halberdash woman asked him to come immediately. Would she've asked him to come if it weren't anything serious? Or would he have gone as sudden as that if he hadn't thought that it was something serious?" James shrugged.

"All we can do is wait. I'm sure it's okay."

"God, I hope so…" They hung in the air for some time, not speaking. It was only then that James realised that Sirius did, indeed, love Cynthia. Loved her more than any other girl he'd dated; loved her, possibly, just as much as he, James, loved Lily.

Imagine it was Lily who'd had gone to the hospital. Imagine it was her. Imagine hearing that an explosion had occurred, and not being allowed to go and see whether she was alright…

He looked at Sirius's pale face, and it seemed to him that his eyes flashed silver in the afternoon light.

"She's fine." He said firmly. "Don't sweat it, Padfoot. Even if she got hurt, she's at the hospital, she'll get treated right away."

"I know." Sirius said quietly. "I know. It's just that…that doesn't really make a difference, does it? Not until I know that she's alright. Not until I can see that she's okay. Until then… I'm sorry Prongs, but you'll just have to cope with hysterical old me." He smiled shortly.

"You know?"

"Hm?"

"I wonder how that explosion came to be."

"I don't think…" James began, but then Liza shot up to their level, shaking her fist and frowning.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, Black? Have you suddenly gone blind? You've missed three Bludgers, and you almost knocked Sam off his broom!"

"I'm sorry. Cynthia…"

"Cynthia wouldn't approve if we lost from Slytherin the next match." Liza said calmly. "Snap out of it, Sirius. It said the hospital exploded, not your girlfriend. I've already been to Madam Pomfrey to catch up on the news, and according to the Hearth-message there are only a few wounded. Nobody's gone missing, nobody's in danger. So put your heart in it and stop messing around. I need you up here doing your job, not imagining things. Got it?"

"Hearth-message?" She rolled her eyes.

"Hello? Madam Pomfrey's great idol lives in that hospital? The unsurpassable Mrs Halberdash, master of Saint Mungo's and Poppy's holy teacher? Really, don't you ever listen to gossip? Anyway, the moment Pomfrey heard that something might have happened to her beloved viralist or, even worse, her lord and master, she called the hospital and asked whether everybody was okay. And apparently they are. So start playing already!" 

"Are…are you sure?" This time Liza's eyes almost rolled out of her head.

"No, I'm just guessing. Of course I'm sure! My kid-brother's in that hospital at the moment, getting treated for multiple broken bones. Fell of his broom, the idiot. He'll never be a good Quidditch player. Of course, he's only four years old, so there may still be hope."

James chuckled.

"I wasn't going to sit still waiting until someone told me whether the little runt got blown up or not," their Team Captain said. "I'm surprised you didn't contact Poppy either. That counts for your hands as well, James. What on earth have you been doing?"

"Slytherin-bashing."

"Ah. Honourable wounds, then."

"Yup!"

She grinned.

"Right. So, Sirius, are you gonna show some spirits or do you have to be excused because of nerves?" The boy smirked, brushed his hair out of his face.

"You can be really mean, you know that?"

"You wouldn't be half as good a team as you are now if I wouldn't be mean," Liza replied matter-of-factly. "That wasn't the question. Can you play, or no?"

"I can play."

"Good. Then start doing so. 

"Sam? Release those Bludgers!"

Although the game went on and the Bludgers were beaten at the right time, Sirius still wasn't up to his usual excellence, and when they stopped and went to change, he stood beneath the shower for a long time, arms wrapped around his shoulders, staring into space with unblinking eyes that flashed silver every few seconds.

"You'll go all wrinkly," James shouted over the pitter-patter of falling water. "Cynthia'll think you've aged and choose another lover." A twisted smile curled up one corner of his friend's mouth.

"I don't think so."

"Never mind whether you think so or not. Can you please come out now? I'm hungry. Besides, maybe Dumbledore's back already. Don't you want to go and see?" Sirius nodded, caught the towel James flung at him.

They arrived at the hall just as the dishes and plates began to appear. One look told Sirius that Dumbledore had not arrived yet, but one second look told him that a feral, brown and black spotted owl had already started on the bangers and mash, and did not take kindly after being persuaded to let off. Another owl, more well-behaved, was waiting patiently on Liza Wood's chair. Now he paid attention to it, he noticed several other owls perching on chairs and tables.

"Sirius!" Emily Endale whined as soon as she saw him. "Can't you get that bloody owl of yours shot or something? He's pooing all over the table!"

Lily and Peter, already seated, were hunched over beside each other, limp with laughter. James laughed as well, and Sirius grinned.

"Render! Oi! Cut that out, mate!"

"Keee!" Render replied with a full mouth. A thick lump of mash fell on the message tied around his leg. Sirius winced.

"Renderrrr…"

"He takes after his master." Lily giggled. She took out her wand. "Shall I?"

"If you please."

            A moment later the table had been cleaned, Render had been brought back to the owlerly, and Sirius opened his letter.

"It's from Hagrid," he said, disappointed and a little surprised, but immediately afterwards realised that no one but Hagrid would have been able to use Render for Owl post. The other Marauders crowded around him.

"What does it say?" James asked, and seeing Sirius skim the message and starting to smile widely with relief, "News from Cynthia?"

"Yeah." Sirius said, grinning so happily he looked like a three-year-old on purple pills. "Here, read it yourself!"

Hi Sirius,

James read hastily.

Just got a letter from Dumbledore. He asked me to send you the following message: 

'Cynthia Catterwall (your new girlfriend? You lucky bastard! D. didn't write this) is all right, apart from a slight burn on her arm. She was close to the explosion and will stay in Saint Mungo for the rest of the day, but will return tomorrow morning. I hope you did not break any rules attempting to leave the school grounds. Yours sincerely, A.D.'

I had to send several other letters to other students as well. Seems no one got dangerously hurt during that explosion.

How is Remus's cold coming along? I haven't heard from you in a long time. This evening, to my enormous surprise, old Dorkham came by my cottage and brought me a potion for my sick animals. He told me the cure wasn't finished yet, but this should help a little. And you know what? My two Trotters are trotting again! They have eaten something and kept it inside. They're still coughing somewhat awful, but it seems Dorkham pulled it off! On the other hand, I still have three unicorns in my shed who did not react to that potion at all. 

Anyway, I hope D's message cheered you up.

Regards,

Hagrid.

James grinned.

"Well, that's good news, isn't it? Cynthia is okay and the cure's coming along!" Peter nodded.

"Now if Hagrid can tell us who's made this virus nothing could stop us from building another party."

"If, of course, it was fabricated."

"It must've been." Peter said, picking up his fork and pricking holes in his mash. "Remember what Snape said?"

"Snape said he was busy preparing the antidote."

"Yes, but he implied that he knew something about the virus that the Professors did not. Besides, if it were a natural virus I don't think it should be so difficult to create an antidote, right? I mean, Dorkham isn't that incompetent, and if Snape's really such a miracle child in Potions it shouldn't have taken him that long either." Sirius shrugged.

"Who cares anyway. If Snape's got the antidote everything's gonna be okay, right? Even if someone did create the virus he probably ran like hell."

"There's no real cure yet, Sirius."

"But there will be."

"We hope so." Sirius flung up his hands.

"Jeez, Peter! Can't you be positive for a change? Don't you trust Snape?" He grinned. "Don't answer that." But Peter was not amused.

"You," he said angrily, "are so selfish. The moment Cynthia's okay the whole word is fine to you, right? Well it isn't! Remus is still dying, not just ill but dying, and until I can talk to him again without having the idea that he can slip away any second I won't believe that this whole mess's cleaned up."

"Aww, Peter…" Lily muttered, but the smallish boy only snorted.

"I know you're being totally insensitive because you're not thinking with your head right now, but still! I really hope I won't ever fall in love and become that insufferable. First James and Lily two years ago, now you!"

"I'm not insufferable." Sirius said, oddly subdued.

"Yes you are. Hell, you don't even notice. Well, let me tell you something. You were a pain when you hadn't met Cynthia yet, but now, god, now you're such a git—worse, you're cruel!" Peter's fingers gripped the edge of the table so hard his nails dug into the solid wood.

"You're cruel, you're violent, and you don't care a bit about what other people are thinking."

"That is not true." Sirius hissed back. As a rule, they kept their disagreements quiet, as to not alert the Slytherins—or the teachers.

"No?" Peter asked. "You didn't hit Snape a concussion, or almost crushed Mincing? Is it just me, then? Are you just picking on me more often than usual? Little fat Peter, let's just tease him because he's used to it anyway?"

"For Chrissake, Wormtail, I haven't done a thing to you these past few weeks!"

For one moment, Peter simply stared at him. Then he shook his head, plunged his spoon in his mash and took an uncaring bite.

"Forget it."

"What's wrong with you?"

"I said forget it! You're too blind to see it anyway."  

Sirius stared at his sausage. He could see it very well.

"Peter?"

"I told you to forget about it."

"Are you jealous?" Exasperated, Peter stuck his spoon straight up in his mash.

"Jealous? About what?" Sirius shrugged.

"You know. Cynthia and me."

"No."

"It's okay, you know. I know I did steal her away from you…"

"Stop acting like a remorseful sinner." His friend spat. "No, I'm not jealous. Maybe I was, but now I see how you've changed because of her, I'm not jealous anymore. Yes, she's pretty, and yes, you stole her away, but since she's never been mine and never would be, even if I had asked her out before you did, you didn't really steal her away from ME, did you?"

James smiled faintly at that. Sirius, however, frowned.

"But…if I hurt you with that…"

"Would you please stop it? This is exactly what I mean! Damn it, Padfoot, you act like a pregnant woman! First this mood, then another mood. Evil, saintly. You drive me crazy!" He took a deep breath. "Look. I know I'll never stand a chance with women like Cynthia. Shit happens. And I know you can't help but walk after them, and knock everything and everybody out of your way in order to get to them. Go you. But you being happy and having sex all the time doesn't mean that everybody is happy. Me, I think that this virus case is much more serious than you care to admit. Hell, if this explosion was directed at Cynthia, a viralist, this could even be incredibly grave. The fact that she came out unscathed, or almost unscathed only aggravates the situation."

"You mean…a direct attack?" Peter nodded. James nodded as well.

"That's what I thought, too."

"Shit."

"Yes. So start thinking with your head again, will you. This hasn't finished yet, not by a long shot."

Sirius smirked.

"Yes sir, Wormtail sir."

"That's my line," James said.

Next week: Cynthia returns. A little talk with Cynthia. Remus starts walking. Next chapter may take a while, because that one has to be perfect: it's the one chapter I've been waiting to write (apart from the final chapter : ) and some of you probably waiting to read. But fear not: I won't let the plot fade out like that. There are still a few surprises in the future.

PS. Anne, the answer to your question is yes, and hopefully in the next chapter. Ciria, you _are_ evil. Think about poor Sirius, and how heartbroken he would be! (evil hand-wringing—wouldn't he be adorable?) But I understand. There will be a lot more Sirius, although the next chapter will probably have a lot of Moony as well.


	24. VIRUS 24 Snape's triumph

Hello, here I am again! One day late, I know, but it's a rather large chapter, so I don't feel guilty. First, in reply to a few reviews: I am from Holland, or the Netherlands, so no, I'm not a native speaker. But you probably noticed from the mistakes I make. Wolfspaw, there is quite some Moony in this chapter, and there will be much more in the next. He needs to get better, doesn't he? Alicorn, I'm glad you think my story isn't so bad : ) But I'm not dealing with the Peter plot in this fic—maybe I will if I ever write a sequel, but not in this fic. At least not much. Hmm. I'd like to talk a bit more about the characters. I'll do so at the end of this chapter. For now, enjoy chapter 24!

24. Snape's triumph

Cynthia came back the following morning, a little pale, a little bruised, and her right arm swathed in bandages and hanging in a sling, but otherwise unharmed. But her death grip on her satchel proved to Sirius that she was acting braver than she actually felt, and he held her tightly for a few minutes, before she said that she needed to get changed for school.

"What?" he asked incredulously. "Surely you're not having any classes now, do you? I mean, you're hurt, you should take it easy!"

She smiled, pushed him away. Her eyes were a little flat, Sirius thought. Maybe he had accidentally hurt her when he hugged her.

"But I'm fine. I really am. My arm, it's nothing. A slight burn." She took a step away from him, her bag pressed tightly against her chest, good left hand wrapped defensively around right shoulder. "I'll see you later, okay?" He nodded.

"Sure. After classes? I really want to know what happened…we all do." Cynthia blinked.

"We?"

"Well, James and Peter and Lily. Us."

"The Marauders."

"Yes, us. The Marauders." He grinned. She flashed him a tiny grin back.

"Okay. I'll see you guys this afternoon. Gotta go now." She gave him an awkward wave.

"Bye!"

Sirius waved back, but a small frown curved his brow.

That's odd. She's behaving really peculiar. Is she still in shock or something? It was almost as if she were afraid of me.

Then he clacked his tongue at himself.

Of course she's acting strangely. She almost got blown up, for Chrissakes. I'd be a little shook-up too.

But there was something about the whole situation that nagged at him, and he pondered what exactly it could be all day, without reaching a conclusion.

Cynthia looked tired and irritable when they met up with her, a quarter to four that same afternoon. She only allowed Sirius to hug her briefly before pushing him away and suggesting to go to Hogsmead instead of crowding in one of the House's common rooms.

"I don't see what's wrong with our common rooms," Lily sputtered quietly, but shook her head when James cast her a questioning glance. "But fine, let's go to Hogsmead. The pub, I gather?" 

Cynthia nodded. She said little as they walked out of the castle, but as soon as they were outside she pulled the rubber band out of her hair so that the wind could play with it, and sighed deeply.

"Ahh, that's so much better! You can't believe how often I've had to tell what happened to me at the Hospital! I've grown so tired talking about it. And all those silly questions! As if I'd know who did it and why."

"You don't? Not even a clue?" James asked, disappointed.

"No. Sorry."

"Well," Sirius began, "At least you're safe, and that's the most important part, isn't it? Although I'd really like to know why whoever it may be attacked Saint Mungo's. Or you." Cynthia shrugged.

"I truly wouldn't know why he—let's call it a he, shall we?—would want to attack me. Sure, I'm a viralist, and we have a highly dangerous virus roaming about, but still. I'm not the only viralist in Britain."

"Scotland," Peter amended absentmindedly. He frowned as he caught her disdainful little smile. Apparently Cynthia still saw him as nothing more than a sweet little boy.

"Scotland. Fine. I'm not the only one, and most certainly not the best. I'm just the youngest, and I happen to live at Hogwarts."

"Where the virus originated." James agreed.

"Exactly."

"Maybe the mysterious attacker thought you had information on the virus, and didn't want you to share it with the other medi-witches and wizards?" Sirius shook his head.

"That doesn't make any sense. I'm sure Dorkham sent notes of all his experiences to the hospital, and Snape as well." Cynthia blinked.

"Snape?" she asked. Sirius kicked at a pebble, sent it skidding into the bushes on the side of the road.

"Yeah, Snape. Apparently he's trying to find a cure."

"Snape, as in Severus Snape, from Slytherin?"

"Are there any other Snapes? Yes, that Snape. Everybody seems to have high hopes of him, so who am I to doubt his genius." He smirked, kicked another pebble out of the way. For the first time since they had left the castle, Cynthia grabbed his arm.

"Hang on. Snape is trying to find a cure? Why? Why him, I mean? I thought professor Dorkham…"

"Because Dorkham thinks he can do it," provided James. "It's supposed to be a secret," he added, frowning at Sirius, who shrugged. "Anyway, now you know. Snape's busy concocting the antidote, and Dorkham and McGonagall are cheering after him. Let's hope he can truly do something." Cynthia said nothing, released Sirius's arm and rubbed her own arm. She had taken off the sling, but the hand peeking out of her cloak was still bandaged.

"I thought," she said, finally, "that you didn't trust this Snape figure. Hell, he's a Slytherin, that should be enough. Or are the rumours wrong? I thought you beat him up pretty badly."

Sirius laughed.

"Oh yes, we did. But it turned out we were wrong. Snape's as innocent as a lamb. I guess I oughta feel guilty about it, but unfortunately I don't. Sneaking little git."

            They had arrived at the Three Broomsticks; the bells above the door chimed cheerfully as they entered. Only a few people were in. It was still early, and for a Thursday afternoon it even was rather busy. Sirius closed the door behind them, sighed and then followed his friends and his girlfriend to a table close to the window. He hadn't sat down yet, when Madam Rosmerta came clicking to their table on her high heels.

"Well hello there! You are Cynthia Catterwall, isn't it? I heard that you were caught up in the explosion at the hospital. It's good to see you weren't hurt. Or," with a sympathetic look at her hand, "at least not badly.

"There's someone who'd like to have a word with you, by the way." she continued, pointing her thumb at one of the backrooms. "A young man called Hector." 

"Hector!" Cynthia moaned. "God, he is obstinate, isn't he?" 

"Hector!" Sirius growled, and balled his fists. "He's here? Good! I still owe him a good kick in the balls. Can I go and see him first, Cynth?" The girl laughed.

"Don't be ridiculous," she said, pushing back her chair. "I'm sure he only was worried about me. Silly man." She sighed. "Although I really don't understand why he even tries…Ah well. I'll just go and see him. Get it over with; I'll be back in a sec."

"I'll come with you." Sirius said, standing up as well.

"Don't be ridiculous, Sirius. I'll just tell him I'm fine, tell him to sod off and come back."

"I'm not being ridiculous. I'm being cautious. Hell, you've only just escaped with your life from what I still think was a direct attack, and now you're gonna talk with some ex-Slytherin ex whom you didn't want to see during the gig, simply because he's worried about you?" He put his hands on his hips. "I don't think so."

Cynthia's pretty pink mouth became a hard, thin line.

"Are you accusing me of something, Sirius?"

"Accuse you?" He frowned, puzzled. "Of what? I'm not accusing you of anything. I don't know how you think about our relationship, but if you are planning to elope with some Slytherin scum I'd hope that you'd tell me in front, and not insult me by trying to do so behind my back. 

"You weren't, were you?" he interrupted himself anxiously. "Planning to elope with this Hector guy?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Cynthia said for the third time. Her mouth relaxed, and she even smiled, a real smile, for the first time since she had arrived back at Hogwarts.

"I'd never do that to you. Couldn't, in fact. I'm lousy at keeping secrets—especially from you." She touched his cheek with her good hand, pulled at his earlobe. 

James cleared his throat.

"Go on," he said with a fake yawn. "Make out in front of us. Who cares anyway. Lovers' rows, smooches and snogs, we can take it. Although I'd like to know what you want to drink so we can place our orders and our sweet hostess can go back to her work."

Rosmerta, still standing near their table, chuckled, and so did the others.

"No need to hurry, love," she soothed. "no one else seems to need my services at the moment."

"But I'm extremely thirsty," Peter said earnestly. "So thirsty I'll even make do with butterbeer."

"And I'd like a soda," added Lily, while James opted for orange fizz. 

"Do you have absinth?" Sirius asked, momentarily distracted from his love life. "I heard it makes you crazy if you drink too much of it."

"I do. But boys your age shouldn't drink it, and surely not you."

"I'll be seventeen in…exactly eighteen days."

"Then you still shouldn't drink it."

"Please? I could use a little help with going crazy." Rosmerta laughed out loud.

"You, you don't need any help at all. But fine, you can get your absinth. As long as you promise to drink my decol potion afterwards. I won't have you going back to Hogwarts dead drunk on an ordinary week-day. Minerva would never forgive me."

"Sure!" 

"Alright then. One soda, one butterbeer, one fizz and one absinth. What would you like, dear?"

"Oh apple juice'd be fine."

"I'll be right up. Now go and see that poor man. He's been out of his mind with worry.

"And you," this to Sirius, "no fighting."

"Say that to Hector!"

"I already did. No fighting!" She click-clacked away again, and Sirius pushed his hands into his pockets.

"Shall we go, then? I promise I won't listen in. But I won't let you go all by yourself either." The girl's mouth tightened momentarily, then she sighed, and smiled.

"Oh, fine. Come along, then. We'll be back in a few minutes." And she left, Sirius trailing after her as a faithful but stubborn dog.   

"I don't think this will last for very much longer," Peter declared when they had gone. "Sirius's getting too grabby, and Cynthia's turning crabby."

"Thus speaks our relation therapist," James chuckled.

"Well, you must agree that they aren't the love birds they used to be."

"Noo…but then, the situation isn't what it used to be either."

"Cynthia's behaving peculiar." Lily said, then kept her mouth shut as Madam Rosmerta returned with their drinks and placed them on the table. "As in, unlike her. She's all jumpy, but a kind of nervous-jumpy than a scared-jumpy, if you know what I mean."

"Of course I do, pumpkin," James cooed, caressing her hair. "Now take a sip of water with your pill."

"O shut up."

"Come on, Lil! She almost got blown up, then didn't, and she's probably done nothing but explain to her air-headed Ravenclaw friends how she came to escape that dreaded situation. Of course she's jumpy."

"Ravenclaws are seldom air-heads."

"And she's meeting a Slytherin graduate!" Peter added. "Out of her own free will. Something's definitely wrong."

"May I remind you," James raised one finger, "that Cynthia Catterwall was your issue to begin with?"

"My issue? What are you talking about?"

"She's been your issue ever since you helped her with her bag. It's your fault if she marries a Slytherin and turns Padfoot into a raving homicidal maniac." He stared Peter sternly in the face for a few seconds, while Peter stared back, absolutely flabbergasted, and burst into laughter. Lily began to giggle as well.

"Bastard!" Peter yelled, and punched James's shoulder. James chuckled.

"Come on, Peter. Don't be so gloomy. Cynth's a pretty girl, and she vamps boys like other girls…um…"

"Buy shoes?"

"Yes! Exactly. Splendid wording, old chap. Anyway, I'm sure it's nothing but a flirt."

"A flirt!" Peter exclaimed. "With a Slythe-?" He suddenly broke off, thinking of the white-haired Alexis Descard, and buried his nose in his drink. James did not notice.

"Well," he mused, "was he good-looking? I can't remember his face."

"Neither do I. All I did was bite him, remember?" James grinned, and took a sip of his fizz.

"Yeah, that's right. You bit him. And Remus broke his nose. Those were the days, eh?"

Peter said nothing.

Mud. Weavers, purple pills, alcohol and mud. I'm glad you can't remember.

What on earth did I do with that girl?

*

Sirius followed Cynthia to the backroom Madam Rosmerta had pointed to, hands clenched to fists inside his pockets.

One wrong move, he thought to himself, and that scum is history. One move, my friend! Do try!

As they entered the room, a young man stood up from a chair, looked at Cynthia, and hastened towards her.

"Cynthia! Are you…? I'm so glad you're unharmed! I was afraid…

Who's he?" Cynthia looked at him coldly.

"You know I chose my friends from Gryffindors, these days, Hector. They're much more reliable—not to mention intelligent and interesting. You should know Sirius. You two met more than a month ago." She grinned evilly. Hector frowned, and tried to place his hands on her shoulders, but she stepped back, towards Sirius. Sirius, in turn, did a step forwards.

"I still owe you, Hector, buddy," he growled. "Bigtime." Hector raised one eyebrow while the other frowned even more deeply.

"Get lost. I want to talk to Cynthia."

"So talk." He smiled without mirth. "Do you really think I'll let her talk to a Slytherin while someone just attacked her?"

"Attacked you?" Genuine fear and concern shone in Hector's small eyes. Sirius rolled his.

"Not so bright, are you? Of course it was an attack. So, now we're here anyway, do you happen to know Lucius Malfoy? Tall guy, blonde, light eyes. Probably likes to torture small animals. Fellow Slytherin. I'm sure you remember him." Hector shook his head.

"I don't know what you're talking about. I'd never hurt Cynthia—never!

"You know that, Cynth! I only wanted to know whether you were alright…" She sighed.

"I know."

"About your arm…"

"It doesn't hurt, much. But I'll have to leave the bandage on for some time." He nodded. Took a step forwards. Sirius tensed his muscles, but this time Cynthia didn't recoil.

"I've found a job," Hector went on, moving a little closer. "In Liverpool. I should've left today, but when I heard about the Hospital…I wanted to make sure you were alright." He cast a sour look at Sirius, who smiled back angelically.

"Looks like at least you'll be kept busy while I'm gone." He fished a small piece of paper out of his sleeve. "Here's my address, in case you want a real man when you found out I did kick this idiot's balls to mush." Sirius grinned widely, and pulled his wand out of his pocket.

"You just said the words I was hoping for, Hector!

"Petri—"

"Oh stop it, both of you!" Cynthia snapped. She looked at the piece of paper once, took out her wand and incinerated it.

"Hector, I don't want you. I don't love you, and I never have. I don't want to know where you live, as long as it's far away from me. I'm touched that you care about my well-being, but really, enough is enough."

"Cynthia…"

"No. I wish you good luck with your job. Good bye.

"Are you coming, Sirius?"

Sirius and Cynthia returned within five minutes, the first looking happy and satisfied, the latter irritated and sullen, but resolved.

"There," she said, sitting down and taking a sip of juice. "That was short, wasn't it?"

"Very." Lily agreed. "Is he still alive?"

"Unfortunately so." Sirius examined his greenish drink with great interest. "But his ego's as flat as the paper Cynthia burned, and I don't think we'll see him anytime soon."

"You bounced him?" Cynthia nodded. She sighed, rubbed her forehead.

"Yeah…though I didn't like it. I hate hurting people's feelings."

"Come on, he's a Slytherin!"

"So? He was my boyfriend for quite a long time, and I've had a lot of fun with him. You can't judge people by the House they're in, you know." Sirius shrugged.

"Sure I can." She looked at him sharply.

"Then you're even worse than he was." He snorted.

"Show me one Slytherin who isn't an egomaniacal bastard and I'll change my views. So far, I haven't met a single one. And sorry, but your precious Hector didn't really do the deed, no matter how worried he was. I don't like Slytherins. I don't trust them. I have my reasons." He took a large gulp and shivered.

"This tastes awful."

"Don't change the subject!"

"Why not? It's boring. I want to know what happened to you at the Hospital and comfort you, and you insist on talking about Slytherins."

"Oh those bickering lovers…" sing-songed James, and Cynthia glared at him so angrily he shut up immediately.

"Fine," she said irritably. "I'll tell you what happened. I arrived at Saint Mungo's and was received by the formidable Mrs. Halberdash, who looks rather like a bull terrier. She showed me around and let me heal a few patients who had a nasty infection. We talked about when I was to enter as a medi-witch in training. Then I asked her whether I could see the books in the Library because you asked me if I could look for a cure for Remus, and just as we had entered the library, part of the wall just blew up and separated me from Mrs. Halberdash.

"I was out for a few minutes," she continued, a little less snappishly, "but when I came to, they were already breaking through the collapsed walls and the debris, and about ten minutes later I was rescued, bandaged and put to bed.

"That afternoon, professor Dumbledore came by to see how I was doing. I think he helped them—the hospital crew—to clear away the mess and try to salvage as many books as possible. I still don't know how many books were lost." She paused to take another sip of juice, leaned back in her chair, and gestured with her good hand.

"A voila. That's it, in a nutshell."

"So…" James rested his hands on the table. "The explosion was near the library."

"Yes."

"What about Saint Mungo's Secret Collection? Maybe they were the real subject to the attack." Cynthia shrugged.

"I don't know. Besides, it's gibberish. Why'd anyone want to have those books?" 

"I don't know. Maybe there is someone who can read them." 

"Then I sure wish the attacker'd chosen another day to come and get them." she grumbled. "I still feel like I've got dust in my lungs."

"I'll make sure I'll tell the one who did it when I find him," Sirius reassured her, with a friendly finger-tap on the cheek. "Now smile for me, no, don't frown, smile, I know you can do it….good girl!

"James, we need new drinks. Go get them, will you?"

"Woof." James said. "Although actually, you should say that."

"I don't bark in the presence of my girlfriend." said Sirius dignifiedly.

*

The next two days, Cynthia remained a little jumpy and aloof, but Sirius either drugged her into submission (as Peter secretly believed) or she only pretended to be cross with him and turned into a nymphomaniac during the night (as Lily suspected). Only James knew that Sirius was very good at waiting when he had to, and that he had waited quite some time in the Ravenclaw common room under the pretence of talking with Julie and a few other Ravenclaw friends. 

"It will pass," he maintained stubbornly, when James told him to stop pursuing her if she didn't want him to. "She's just scared."

"But of what, Padfoot?" James wondered, when they were sitting together on the top of the astronomy tower, sharing a cigarette. "I agree with you, she's scared of something. But of what? And why? She made it, didn't she?" Sirius shook his head.

"I don't know. I've asked her, but she said she was fine."

"Maybe she's having an exceptionally bad period."

"No, she hasn't."

"How do you know?" Sirius smiled.

"I just know, okay. We're not being celibate or something. Neither is she avoiding me. She's just less…touchy than she used to be." He blew out a long trail of smoke, and passed the cigarette back to his friend. "Ah well. Maybe she's just nervous because of that puzzle contest."

"Puzzle contest?" James blew out a question mark. Sirius chuckled.

"You probably don't even want to know."

* 

Even though he knew that he was lying in bed, Remus Lupin couldn't help from shivering in the cold air of the Tibetan mountains. 

"Ye really should 'urry," the large black vulture on his shoulder croaked. "If the Yeti catches up wi' 'er, 'e'll beat 'er to a pulp!"

"I know. I know!" Remus moaned. But he couldn't move; his coat was too heavy. He pulled at the collar, but the more he pulled, the tighter the fabric twisted around his body. 

"Come on, go an' help 'er!" Martha's voice (which sounded rather like Professor Dorkham's) cried from a distance. Remus tugged at his cloak, felt it rip and tear away, and recognised it as a blanket.

Why am I wearing a blanket in Tibet?

He started as somewhere, far away, a loud boom resounded and a scream pierced the air. Fast footsteps followed, and a door slammed, close by this time.

Mom.

He sat up straight in bed, holding his head in his hands, panting.

Mom. Are you okay?

The sheets were coarse against his skin, the fabric of his pyjama's hung heavy and stifling hot around his body. Air. He needed more air. He pulled at the neck of his shirt, felt buttons pop and spring away, but at least a bit of cool air played over his neck and the upper side of his chest.

I need to get some air. Go outside. Find Mom. That Yeti's gonna kill her if I can't get her out of the Forest.

Ooh, hot! I'm suffocating in here. Take it off—no, can't go outside without any clothes on.

Pushing his legs out of bed, he took a few seconds to try and fasten the buttons of his shirt again, but he seemed to have pulled most of them off.

Never mind. Hang on, Mom.

He cast a look around in search of Martha, but she had either flown away again, or she had used floo powder to bring his message—there was no sign of the vulture. Getting up proved to be a bit of a problem, since his legs were strangely weak, and the moment he pushed himself to his feet, a dark wave of agony rolled though his head, almost forcing him to the floor, but with the help of the nightstand he managed to keep his footing. His feet appeared to be a long distance away from his head; they looked like white little mammals, far, far below. The floor was shockingly cold and sent shivers through his whole body, but he could not find his shoes —or his robes, for that matter, so he decided to ignore that minor discomfort.

The Forest. I have to get outside. Madam Pomfrey shouldn't see me, she'll stop me from going.

Silent as a cat on his bare feet, he staggered towards the little office room, fumbled with the door handle. Nobody was in. He leaned against the door post to catch his breath, revolted by the effort it took him to reach this place. His knees were quivering; his whole body was quivering, and he had only walked a few paces.

A virus. It's this virus, he thought as he closed his eyes, fighting for strength. The room was spinning around him. Peter told me about it. Snape made it, or Malfoy? Can't remember. Don't care. I can handle this virus. Werewolves can only be killed by silver bullets.

He pressed a shaking hand against his aching head.

Is that what's wrong with me? A silver bullet in my head? Or in my stomach? Dorkham's potion…did it contain silver?

Doesn't matter now. Need to get out.

Taking a deep breath, he released the door post and took a wavering step into the infirmary. It was empty. Bright light shone inside through the windows, reflecting of the white beds; it stung his sensitive eyes, made him moan softly with pain.

Silver light. The sun is silver, not gold. He shielded his eyes with one hand. Rays of pure silver…I should stay out of the light.

He tried to walk around the places where the sun shone on the floor, inching along the wall, using the beds for support when his legs threatened to find out. When he reached the door to the hallway he was reeling. He rested his head against the door before opening it, trying to get enough air into his lungs to perform the enormous feat of turning the handle. The door's wood was cool against his burning cheek, smooth and solid, and maybe he slept for a minute, standing up, pressing as much bare skin against that cool surface as possible. 

But this won't get me outside. He mused foggily. Gotta turn this thing. Come on. Turn. His fingers spasmed weakly around the large copper knob. By the time he finally heard it click open his arm hurt with the strain, breath coming in painful gasps. His throat constricted and he coughed, doubled over, pressed his hands against his mouth; blood dripped on the floor. He wiped one hand on his pyjama bottoms, combed his hair out of his face with the other, left bloody tracks on his forehead.

I should get a hair-cut. I won't be able to see a thing during Quidditch.

Door open, he tottered into the hallway. A draft passed over his back and the shiver the cold floor had started grew to a shaking so badly it made his teeth rattle in his jaws, and he wrapped his arms around his chest to keep from falling apart.

Cold…but then, Yeti live in cold weather, don't they?

He took a few steps to the left, towards the nearest exit; the one to the Quidditch field, with one hand stretched out to the wall. He bumped into the wall a few times; sometimes to keep himself standing, sometimes because his equilibrium simply left off. The stones were very cold as well—he couldn't remember Hogwarts being this cold. But perhaps that was because of the Yeti as well.

When in Rome…or something…

Vaguely, he wondered why he did not meet anyone. Another trick of the Yeti…or was it Professor Trelawney's fault? He had a faint vision of an enormous butterfly sucking the brains out of all Hogwart's students, but shook it out of his head.

Impossible. I must be hallucinating. Must be the virus.

What am I doing here anyway? Shouldn't I be in bed?

Then he had to cough again, and through the red haze behind his eyes he thought he heard a woman's voice, screaming.  

Coming, Mom. Be there in a sec. Blood dribbled from his chin on the floor, splattered on his left foot. It was an awful lot, he thought.

I'm completely messed up inside, Remus realised, wiping it away. Should've stayed out of the sun. God, it hurts…I never should've trusted that man.

Silver bullets or not, though, Remus Lupin was not the kind of man who would let his mother get torn apart by Yetis, and after another pause he pushed himself away from the wall. Looking back, he noticed that he had come a lot farther than he had thought, and that made him feel, if not proud, then at least satisfied. The intersecting passage to the door should only be several meters away. Already the draft grew stronger, and he heard its familiar creak as it was opened, and its dull slam as it shut again.

Alright. Almost there. Then only a few minutes to the Forest. I should be…hang on, someone's finally coming.

He stopped, head, hands and shoulders pressed against the wall for support. And waited, blinking slowly to stop the world from spinning. Soft, quick footsteps tapped on stone; someone was running.

Chased? Maybe I should help…

The running figure came skidding around the corner (which was farther away than he had thought. He simply couldn't trust his eyes anymore), saw him, and halted abruptly. Remus's eyes widened. 

It was Snape.

Severus Snape did not often skip, but today, he had skipped most of the distance. He had skipped all the way down to Hagrid's cottage to hand him the antidote, and he was skipping all the way back to the castle as well. The two remaining vials tinkled cheerfully in his pocket. He wasn't afraid that they'd break. Today, nothing could go wrong. He had finally done it. The virus that had made the whole wizarding world cower in fear had been conquered—by him. Oh, Dorkham might try to steal some of his fame, but Snape, and more importantly, Dorkham himself, Dumbledore and a certain other person knew that the one who had created the cure was Snape, and nobody else. He grinned widely. And now would come the best part of it all. Remus Lupin. A dying werewolf.

"I am so going to enjoy to see your face when I give you the cure," he said aloud, and started running out of pure joy. The Quidditch pit was empty; everybody was still in class—everybody but Severus Snape, who had just managed a major feat. He drummed his fists on the door before opening it, danced inside, black hair waving around his face, and began to ran again. Straight to the infirmary. Straight to Lupin. See how he'd react—and then, when the whole school knew, see how the rest of the Marauders would react. He couldn't wait to see Black's face, or Potter's…

He almost slipped as he raced around the corner, grabbed the edge of the wall and used it like a pivot, letting his momentum carry him on. And then he stopped as suddenly as if he had fallen after all. Half standing, half sprawled against the wall, was Remus Lupin, shivering in his pyjamas. He gazed at him with eyes that were impossibly large in his gaunt face, eyes that glittered like pools of water in the soft light.

"What the hell do you think you're doing here?" Snape asked, and hastily walked up to him. Trust the Marauders to go around walking while they should be in bed, suffering. Lupin swallowed several times before he spoke, and his voice was barely more than a whisper as he said, "My Mom…she's in the Forest. Have to get her…out."

No matter how much he hated Lupin, Snape couldn't help feeling sorry for him now. He had seen the animals, and he had worked with this boy's blood, but he had never actually seen him since he had taken ill; the virus's effect stunned him. There was simply nothing left of Lupin. All that sarcastic, lazy wit and that damned brilliant intelligence had been burned away or starved to death, and all he saw now was a thin husk operating only on feverish heat.

"Don't be ridiculous," he said, swallowing his pity. "Nobody ever comes in the Forest these days, except possibly for Hagrid. And I happen to know for certain that he isn't at the moment."

"I got…a message." Lupin maintained stubbornly. There were brown and red smudges on his forehead, and trails of blood on his bare chest. His collar bones jutted out like sticks. A dark blush was growing in his hollow cheeks. He should not be here, Snape realised. Not only because he should be kept warm, but also because physically, it should not be possible for him to walk this far.

"I'm telling you, there's nobody in the Forest. And certainly not your Mom."

"But the Yeti…" Snape rolled his eyes.

"There are no Yeti here, Lupin. You're hallucinating. Let's get you back to the infirmary, shall we?" The glassy eyes studied him distrustfully. 

"Since when…do you care…about me?" Lupin asked, pressing closer to the wall. "Aren't you the one…who…created the virus? Why should I…listen…to you?" Snape sneered.

"Ah. Well. Sorry to spoil your dreams and all, but it appears you've missed an act of the play, wolf-boy. I didn't make the virus."

"But Peter…"

"Should have his ears cleaned out. I didn't make the virus. As a matter of fact…" and now he allowed himself a true grin, "I just created the antidote." Lupin just stared at him.

"Hello? Did you hear me? I made the antidote. The cure. I just delivered it to Hagrid as well. And you must be thrilled to hear that I have made a special type just for you. Cost me quite a lot of time too, finding out how to replenish your antibodies." 

All Lupin did was stare. There was no disbelieve on his face, nor relief. Nothing. He was just standing there, breathing shallowly, head hanging a little to the side, as if it were too heavy to hold up straight. Snape frowned. He would have liked to gloat, but with Lupin being this unresponsive, it wasn't much fun.

"Do you even hear a single thing I'm saying? I'm going to save your life!"

"I don't…trust you."

"No?" Snape grinned. "Well, guess what. I don't give a damn. I'm going to save your life, whether you like it or not. Just so you know it was me. Me, Lupin, the one you almost ripped apart. Me."

"You're lying." Lupin's voice was hoarse and accusatory. "You'll only…poison me. Just like…Valentine." Snape's bushy eyebrows rose up.

"Valentine?"

"Dorkham."

"His name's Valentine? Hahahaha! Valentine Dorkham. What a joke!

"Whoa, Lupin! Keep it straight." He grabbed the other boy by the shoulder as he began to cough and almost fell, and despite himself he winced as he heard the sound of it. It was awful.

"Let off!" Lupin gasped, pushing his arm away. Blood sprayed from his mouth in small drops and he sagged sideways until Snape caught him, his resistance for once too weak to force the other boy to leave him alone. He pushed at Snape's chest, trying to break free, but Snape's bony hands held his own arms clenched fast like a vice. And then he was coughing again, and all he cared about was the pain in his head and his chest, and the blood bubbling up from his lungs.

            Snape cursed. Lupin's body was a hot, heavy weight against his chest, almost completely limp after his coughing fit. Somewhere on his chest, a damp spot grew gradually bigger, and it disgusted him to know that it had to be blood. He gave the thin arm a squeeze.

"Lupin." The boy's head moved until only his forehead was touching Snape's chest. He heard something drip on the ground, clenched his teeth together.

"Lupin. We've got to get you to the infirmary. I need you to take that antidote. Hell, I'm not going to let you die and take my victory with you, understand? Stand up." He pushed him against the wall, still holding on to his arms. Lupin's head hung on his chest; he was panting raspily. His lips were flecked with red.

"Mom…"

"She isn't here, you stupid git! Now come on. I'll help you. No, that way. One foot in front of the other. I'll be damned if I'll carry you. I should mobilize you…" 

But he didn't. He told himself that he didn't want to waste a single aiding spell on Remus Lupin—but he had spent hours and hours working on the cure to the disease this boy was suffering from, and that had take a lot more out of him than a simple mobili spell would. But that, Snape told himself firmly, he had done only because of the rewards for his success. The grant, and the money, and the position he could demand when he had finished school, not to mention the admiration of a certain dark and powerful minister. Lupin had nothing to do with it. The minister would surely understand that Lupin's recovery was essential for Snape's position here at Hogwarts. Voldemort would understand, and agree. After all, he would be a fool if he'd ignore a student who was brilliant enough to find a cure for a virus made to be incurable. 

            So he dragged Lupin along, listening to the laboured, raspy breathing and the liquid sound of the boy's lungs, letting his fever warm him through his clothes. Its heat was almost as warming as the pride that swelled in his stomach. He revelled in the fact that the werewolf was so very weak and so very dangerously ill, knowing that the small vial in his pocket would have him walking around in no time.

            They had almost reached the infirmary when Madam Pomfrey came running out of the room, pale with anxiety. As soon as she saw the two boys, she exhaled loudly in relief.

"Mister Snape! Remus! What are you doing out here? Come, come! You should never have left your bed, you fool boy! You must be freezing…" Between the two of them, they ushered Remus back into the ICU, and before Snape or Remus could get a word out, she had the latter tucked up warmly in bed again.

"Only gone for a minute to see what that noise was…Silly boy. What did you do to your shirt? Half the buttons're off."

"I've come to bring you the cure," Snape said softly, glowing with anticipation. He tried to keep from smiling, but it was very hard. He had never felt this wonderful before. "I've finished it today."

Madam Pomfrey stopped fussing over Remus.

"You…you did?" she asked, so hopefully he couldn't help grinning anyway.

"Yes. Yes, I did." He fished the two vials out of his pocket. "Once I knew what its build-up was, it was easy. I brought Hagrid the antidote for his animals only ten minutes ago."

"But Lupin…"

"I made another antidote especially for him," Snape continued, hoping to god that Lupin was listening. "It took me quite a while, but I think I've got it now. And if it doesn't work, I know how to improve it." He handed her one of the vials. "He should take this one right now, and the other in four hours. The first one's best taken intravenously by injection, straight into the bloodstream. The second can be taken orally." 

Her admiration and gratitude washed over him like warm rain, and for a moment Lord Voldemort's approval was unimportant. He was simply very proud that he had managed, and glad that Madam Pomfrey was so grateful. He had always liked the medical witch. She was one of the few who didn't treat him like an outsider. And at the moment she was positively beaming.

"Oh, you clever, clever boy!" she exclaimed, and hugged him. "You really did it? Incredible!"

"It was very difficult," Snape admitted modestly, "but…"

"But you managed! That's all that counts."

"I can't be sure yet, of course," Although he was, as sure as he'd ever been. The cure would work. He had just saved Lupin's life. "I do think I did it."

"I'll give it to him right away," Madam Pomfrey quickly fished a syringe out of the cupboard.

"But he's…he's the one who made it…" Remus sputtered weakly from the bed.

"Nonsense, my dear. Have you, Severus?"

"No."

"There, then. Keep still now."

"But…" Two grey-brown eyes stared up at Snape, darkened with fever and confusion. Snape could see his own grinning face reflected from their shiny surface.

"You owe me twice now, Lupin. Don't you forget it."

He watched as the witch slowly injected the clear fluid into the reclining boy's vein, pulled back the needle and healed the small puncture wound with a whisper. Saw the boy's eyes grow empty and heavy as the antidote spread though his body.

"Don't you forget it." he repeated, then smiled as Remus nodded and whispered,

"I won't."

"Good," he said to himself, and readied himself for the rest of his due praise.

Next chapter: Remus starts healing and meets a cook-crazed house elf.

Now, for the characters. This is a long piece of bleating, so don't read it if you have more important things to do than listen to the ramblings of my twisted brains. Sorry if I sound self-satisfied. I don't mean to be. Just musing. I noticed a lot of you people hate Cynthia. Good. I hate her too, but I need her for the story. But don't worry, I may kill her yet! If only to make Sirius weep and sulk and start dating Moony. Or maybe not : ) You'll find out. But I know one thing: she isn't a Mary Sue. At first I was afraid that she'd look like someone, but now she may look like one, but I know that she isn't. Happy me! : ) (Proof? I'd go for Moony if I wanted 'me' to choose one of the Marauders for a boyfriend : )

As for Peter, I don't like Peter. How could I, he's such a jerk in the cannon. But at this age he's still an ordinary Marauder, who must have some qualities to fit in with the rest. So, although he's a bit flat (I know), I made him the cynic of the Four, someone who shamelessly profits from James, Remus and Sirius's friendship but tries to do what he can in return. Peter isn't so bad, in this story, isn't he?

James. James, I'm afraid, is horribly flat. I really like him, but I can't seem to give him a real personality. He's the laughing one of the Four, the optimistic one. He's also plain and honestly nice. Actually I see him very much like Peter sees him after the Match: Someone whom you should hate, but cannot because he's too nice. After all, he's good at everything, has a nice girlfriend, has great friends and is pretty handsome (although I don't really stress that). Still, James has some major scenes coming yet. So he might fill out a bit.

Lily. Flat as well. I made her studious to have her out of the way when the boys need to be alone : ) But I kinda like her now. She's ordinary. And I liked writing her after the mirror scene, with her baby-lust. I hope you're not terribly irritated by her; I tried to insert her as a worthy love interest without being too much of a bother to the boys' adventures.

Snape. Oooh, I like my Snape. Is that a bad thing? He's nasty, but not evil. There are three groups of Snapes: the "he's actually a good, loving and, really, pitiable guy, but he was trapped by Voldemort" type, the "he's an evil bastard without a shred of good in him" type, and the "bit of both of them" type. I went for the last one. It fits best with my ideas about the cannon. Which, of course, isn't to say that it's necessarily the right view. Just my view in this story.

Sirius. Ah, Sirius. He was a bit of a surprise. I hadn't planned him the way he turned out. But right now, he's my favourite character: rough, a little bit mean, selfish but very loyal as well, I really love him. Perhaps because he wrote himself, and I had pretty little to do with it. (sounds weird? Those who've written stories as well probably know what I'm talking about). The nice thing about this Sirius is that I can hurt him as often as I like (Ciria, my friend, you are not the only one) and he bounces right back! But I'll get him! Just you see!

Remus. Well. Together with Sirius he is the most finished, least flat character. He turned out exactly as I wanted to—perhaps a little less dreary than I feared. I especially like his 'I really can't be bothered' attitude, which I kinda adapted from Squall Final Fantasy VIII. J.K Rowling said he'd return in the fifth book, didn't she? Yaay! Okay, I've been talking about my views of the characters long enough. Enough already. I'm going to bed. See you next chapter!


	25. VIRUS 25 Fattening Remus

Hello again! Thanks for all your wonderful reviews! Dee, I don't think you reviewed before, but you did now, and thanks for doing so. Strangely enough I've been plagued by colds while I wrote this fic as well, so…who knows : ) Pie, you're close, but in a few chapters you'll know why and how exactly. Mike, I'll try to fill James out a bit, and he will get some big scenes, so that shouldn't be much of a problem. Wolfspaw, I'm afraid most of the Remus torture ends here…I can hardly make the poor boy suffer more. But oooh, I'm looking forward so much to one of the final chapters! (bounce bounce) Werewolf…anyway, you'll see. 

Now, there is one thing which peeved me a little. Someone told me that British children only say 'mum'. Now I'm not English, but I find that a little hard to believe. I mean, everybody in my story says 'Mum' when they're talking about their mother, except Remus. I consciously made him say Mom, because I find it incredible to think that ALL ENGLISH CHILDREN call their mothers Mum. We don't all say 'mama' here in Holland either. Some say Ma, or Mam, or Mammie, or moeder, or moes. So all British readers, please correct me if I'm wrong, but even if I am, please don't leave a review only saying that I should use a Britpicker, whatever that is. Be constructive, even if you don't like my story. Or at least tell me what a Britpicker is and where I can find one : ) (And please don't feel attacked by this anyway, Val I know it's only a minor correction. But I do think Mum's not the word : )

Good, now on with the story. It's a small chapter, but I couldn't help wanting to insert a house elf. Don't worry, he won't be very important. I just had this scene in my head for a long time now and didn't want to let it go to waste. 

25. Fattening Remus

The following 24 hours, all Remus did was sleep. Madam Pomfrey woke him up every four hours to give him a bit of broth or potion, but he hardly opened his eyes, swallowing without wondering what fluid she let trickle into his mouth.

It was very early the next day when he finally woke up with a clear head, and noticed several things at once. One was that he was terribly uncomfortable because a. his clothes, his skin and his sheets were moist with sweat, and b. his bladder was about to explode. But aside that discomfort he noticed something else, and that was that he felt rather good, and that the headache he'd almost gotten used to had finally gone. So had the pain in his stomach. His chest and throat were still a little sore, but it was nothing compared to what it had been. He even felt good enough to be hungry.

No. Starving.  And thirsty, too.

But if I drink one drop before I've pissed I'm going to burst.

He pushed himself up on arms that were quivering, shivered as moist skin came into contact with a draft, and placed his feet on the floor. Standing up was a little more difficult; the first time he tried he had to make a weird pirouette to land back on the bed when his knees gave out.

What the hell?

He could remember, if with some difficulty, that he had been able to walk just fine only a day ago. Why then, did he have to cling to every available part of furniture to keep from falling to the floor? His knees felt like boiled pasta, no, like the sauce that usually covered it, and when he finally reached the bathroom he sank down on the toilet seat, shaking with weakness, unable to do what he had to do standing up—'like' Sirius always used to growl, 'real men do it!'—even unable to stand up again when he had finished.

Well, he thought, half-amused, half-desperate, isn't this the height of fun? Being confined to the toilet seat. How refreshing.

After a few minute rest and a whole lot of effort he finally made it back to his feet, although he had to cling to the shower curtain to keep upright. He felt increasingly stupid and tired, but refused to give up. The pyjama's he was wearing were unpleasantly damp, and he felt sweaty and dirty after he didn't know how many days and nights of fever. So, holding on to the curtain with one hand, he shoved his pyjama bottoms down with the other, shrugged out of his shirt and managed to kick the whole lot into a corner. Then he stepped into the shower cubicle and turned on the tap.

Cold, at first, but that was okay because he was very thirsty. When the water turned hot, he huddled beneath the beam and let the water wash away the remnants of his fever dreams. Reaching for the shampoo, standing in one corner on the ground, resulted losing his balance and subsequently in sitting beneath the spray instead of standing, but he didn't really mind.  The cubicle was built like a shallow basin; it was almost like taking a bath. He washed every spot on his body and his hair until it squeaked when he ran his fingers through it and turned off the water.

At least, he tried to.

But getting up proved to be all but impossible.

First he tried to roll to his knees and use the wall for support, but the wall, just like the ground, was wet and slippery and all he did was hurt his knees, so he rolled back, laughing. He couldn't help it. It was all so ludicrous, so silly, being bound to the floor, sopping wet—though very very clean.

A knock on the door woke him from a short doze, and he curled up to cover at least most of his nakedness.

Not much, though he chuckled to himself. Me being bare naked and all.

"Yes?" he called.

"Remus?" Madam Pomfrey's voice spoke up, muffled by the door and the sound of falling water. "Is that you?"

"Er, yes."

"Are you alright?" Another fit of giggles shut Remus up for a few seconds, then he replied,   
 "Well, yeah, but…" Madam Pomfrey's voice sounded worried.

"What is it? Is something wrong?"

"No. No, nothing's wrong. Well…I can't seem to get up." A short pause at the other side of the door.

"You can't get up?"

"Er, no." He gazed up at the shower head. "And I'm running out of hot water. Damn!"

"Did you slip?" A few drops of absolutely icy water mixed with the warm water, and he pulled back against the wall.

"No, I didn't slip. I just can't stand up. And it's getting really cold now."

"Shall I come in?"

If you were Cynthia I'd tell you to sod off. But she wasn't Cynthia. And she had seen him naked before, and he hadn't cared about that. On top of that, there was hardly a trace of warmth in the water anymore.

"Sure! Please!"

The curtain billowed as she opened the door, stuck cold and wet to one thigh. He shivered.

"You weren't supposed to be out of bed for at least another day or two," Madam Pomfrey muttered. She opened the curtain, looked down on Remus and couldn't help smiling as she saw him sit there, grinning sheepishly.

"Why can't you just behave like every other ordinary sick pupil?" Remus breathed a sigh of relief as she turned off the water.

"I'm not ordinary," he protested. "And besides, I had to pee. And I felt sweaty. I haven't had a decent wash for I don't know how many days."

"Three." she said, and grabbed a towel. "During which I sponged you down."

"Exactly what I wanted to hear." Remus murmured theatrically. He allowed her to pull him up and against her chest, into the towel, which she hastily wrapped around him. "Lecherous female eyes on my poor body." Madam Pomfrey snorted.

"There's nothing about your body I haven't seen before, mister Lupin—the way you're now, there is very little to see at all. Before you go to sleep, I want you to eat a decent meal, you hear! You're nothing but skin and bones." She looked around. Sighed.

"And if you're so anxious about me studying your body, why didn't you bring a clean set of p.j.s with you?"

"Um. I seem to have forgotten."

"Ah. Well. Do you think you can dry yourself off if I park you on the toilet seat while I go and get you some clean clothes?" Remus nodded. Even though she supported most of his weight, his legs were quivering with exhaustion.

Or hunger. I'm famished. I haven't had a thing to eat for weeks!

"Good. There you go. And no trying to get up while I'm away, understood? You're far too weak to attempt to walk yet."

"No sir."

"Good." She swept out of the room, leaving him sitting there sitting on the toilet seat, rubbing himself dry and giggling. Why exactly he felt so cheerful he couldn't really tell; after all, he was almost completely helpless and it might take days before he could even try to walk by the way it felt now, but still…No pain. No fever. And the promise of a good meal in the near future. The very thought of something that wasn't broth made his head spin and saliva gather in his mouth.

Although she probably won't let me eat anything I really want. It'll just be more soup. But as long as it isn't chicken broth…

"Are you quite dry?" Madam Pomfrey asked, walking in, and he nodded.

"All but my feet. Can't reach them."

"Your feet can wait." She proceeded to peel him out of the towel, sliding a shirt over his head as soon as she had uncovered his upper body. All this she did with a no-nonsense efficiency, never stopping to gaze at his numerous scars or cluck over him. It took most of his embarrassment away, even though he still looked away as she uncovered him entirely and swiped his feet dry.

"Bottoms." Madam Pomfrey commanded, making him giggle again. He pushed his feet into each trouser leg, pulled the fabric up to his hips and then all the way up. "Good. Now, back to bed with you." She pulled him up, and the next moment his pyjama bottoms were around his knees again.

"Bloody hell!" Remus cursed, beet-red, and pulled them up to his armpits. "How much weight did I lose?" Then, before she could answer, something even more dreadful occurred to him.

"I didn't wear these when I went out, did I? When I met Snape? I didn't, did I?"

He clutched her arm, a terrible picture forming in his head…but she just smiled and shook her head.

"Keep your shirt on. You were wearing trousers with a lace, the day before yesterday. Although you did face him with your chest exposed, but that's your own fault. You shouldn't have ripped off the buttons."

"But…"

"Watch out for that chair."

"But I really did meet Snape, then?" She ushered him back into bed (a clean bed, he noticed immediately. Apparently she'd made it or had it made while he was in the shower.) before nodding.

"Oh yes, you did. You very foolishly clambered out of bed with a raging fever, walked all the way through the drafty hall and bumped straight into mister Snape. Fortunately, he managed to bring you back here and brought me the cure for your virus." She grinned widely. "And didn't it half help! One moment I thought I was going to lose you, and now you're already trying to take baths!"

"How extremely funny." Remus muttered. He clapped a hand against his stomach as it gave a wild growl.

"Hungry?" Madam Pomfrey asked rhetorically. "So, what would you like to eat?"

"Anything as long as it isn't soup?" Remus dared, hoping that she wouldn't shake her head and tell him that that was impossible. But she did not shake her head.

"Such as?"

"Steak?"

"If you will. Anything else?"

"French fries?" Remus wondered.

"Of course. Any more?" A look of rapture appeared in the huge eyes of the boy sitting opposite of her.

"Corn and peas?" he hoped.

"No problem, although you won't be getting corn cobs. And for desert? Apple pie?"

"With vanilla ice cream?" Remus salivated. She grinned.

" If they have it, sure." She stood up. "I'll go and place your order. Be sure not to fall asleep before you've eaten."

"You can count on that!" Remus whooped.

Nevertheless he woke up some time later by two things: Madam Pomfrey calling his name and a delicious smell of FOOD.

"I hope this will be enough," the witch grinned, shoving a heaped plate on his lap and a knife and a fork into his hands. "Although it should be. I don't want you throwing up again, or being sick after over eating."

Remus beamed down on the huge slab of steak, the French fries and the mass of yellow-green vegetables on his plate.

"I don't think that will be an issue." he said, and dug in.

The following day and night, Madam Pomfrey woke him every three hours for a meal. 

"As a werewolf," she told him when he wondered about this strange course of action, "your body is different than that of other people. Ordinary people recuperating from a severe illness I would give soup and milk, but not you. You need to get stronger. As soon as you've gained a few more pounds, enough for your body to do something else than simply use it all for nutrition, you'll see how quickly you'll recover. So have another piece of pie, Remus. And another Chocolate Frog. Your friend Peter left about half a dozen for you."

By the second day, he could make it to the bathroom with only a few pauses, and make water like real men did it: standing up without falling on his face. And although he still slept most of the time, he could stay awake long enough to wish he could see his friends.

"Not just yet, dear." Madam Pomfrey told him friendly but adamantly. "Maybe in a day or two." And since he fell asleep while he tried to think up reasons why he should not see them, he rested his case—for this time.

            That afternoon he woke up to the smell of roast beef, baked potatoes and something veggy, and couldn't hold back a sound of surprise as he saw a small, vaguely humanoid creature dressed in what looked like two sewed-together dish towels place the tray with his plate on it on a chair. As it turned around to look at him, he was too slow in closing his eyes, so he kept them open and smiled at the house elf. It jumped back at first, then tentatively smiled back. A thin, wrinkled face with a nose like an eggplant proclaimed the elf a male—although Remus could not be entirely sure. He'd never seen a house elf up this close. He sat up.

"Hello."

"Hello." The elf replied, and quivered with his huge ears. "Libby hopes you is hungry." Remus grinned.

"I sure am. You mind if I start?" More quivering.

"No! No! Of course not! The more Remus Lupin eats, the better! Poppy Pomfrey told Libby: you take care of him!" He nodded ferociously. "Libby stands in kitchen cooking all day, cooking all day for Remus Lupin!" He smiled broadly, although Remus couldn't imagine why. Cooking all day didn't seem like the height of fun to him—but then, he wasn't a house elf. He took a great spoon full.

"Well," he said, chewing, "if you made this, it's wonderful!" The smile changed into a slightly deranged grin.

"Yes? Yes?"

"Yes!" Remus nodded, hiding a smile. "It's very very good."

"You likes it better than the broth? Remus Lupin kept throwing up Libby's broth. Even when Libby worked so hard to make it tasty…"

This, Remus thought, must be the first house elf who makes a wizard feel guilty.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I was very ill. And if you'd lived on chicken broth for two weeks, you wouldn't like it much either. Although it was very good," he added hastily. Libby almost blushed, gnarly little fingers playing with the hem of his towel.

"Do you always cook for me?" Libby shook his head.

"Not always, no. Only when Remus Lupin was ill."

"Well, I wouldn't mind if you were to cook for me all year," Remus said, partly because he really wouldn't mind and wanted to pay the poor thing a compliment, and partly because he suddenly remembered Julie's story as well. And partly because…

"Is you serious?" the house elf blubbered, overcome with emotion.

"Of course I'm serious! Have you tasted this stuff? It's wonderful!" He offered Libby a piece of beef, which the elf took and delicately nibbled. "Not bad, is it?" Libby only grinned. Widely. Remus felt like a benefactor.

Julie was right. He's so happy when you show you appreciate what they do…

"Would you like some more?"

            Soon the small elf was sitting on the edge of his bed and they were brotherly sharing Remus's food.

"Don't you ever taste what you make?" Remus wondered. Libby shrugged.

"Of course we do. We need to taste in order to make sure the masters eat good, tasteful food. But ordinarily, Libby only eats cereal and biscuits."

"Cereal and biscuits? ONLY cereal and biscuits?"

"And fruit."

"But…why? Don't they give you anything else?" The house elf smiled.

"Remus Lupin offered me something else!"

Touched to the depth of his soul, Remus gave him a chocolate frog as he left with the empty plate. 

Later that night, Libby was back with his midnight meal. He had added a sweet-smelling drink to the bread and cheese sandwiches—"Made especially for Remus Lupin!" It tasted of bananas and pine apple, with a hint of strawberry and vanilla; delicious. Remus said so, and had the pleasure of almost seeing Libby flap away on his ears.

"Tomorrow, Libby will make you a special desert!" the house elf promised. He shook his head when Remus wanted to give him another frog.

"Libby still has the other one." He said, pulling it from a self-made pocket. The frog looked a little sticky, but was still recognisable. "He can't take care of two." Remus laughed.

"You shouldn't take care of a chocolate frog," he said. "You should eat it." Libby cradled his frog protectively against his chest.

"NO!" he cried. "Libby would never eat his first real gift! He shall take care of the frog, and keep it from melting forever!"

"Okay." Remus soothed. "Okay. That's fine. You do that.

"Do you want a piece of my frog, then?"

Libby was not averse to that. The taste of chocolate made his bat-like ears quiver like a strung string.

"Remus Lupin is a true friend," he blubbered tearfully, licking his fingers. "Is there anything you would want Libby to do for you?"

"Well," Remus said, trying not to look to conspicuous, "There is one little thing…"

"Yes? Yes?"

"A piece of paper, and a pen?"

Pouff, went Libby, and returned with writing utensils a few seconds later.

"Thank you! Now, if you'd please wait a moment, then I'll write my letter. Maybe you can even deliver it to James Potter or Sirius Black, if you please?" He scribbled away, using his tray for underground. Libby, however, hesitated. 

"Libby isn't allowed to be seen in the castle." Remus stopped writing. 

"You're not? But that's nonsense! I've seen plenty of house elves around the castle." Again, Libby clenched the hem of his towel.

"That's the reason why Libby may not be seen now," he said sadly. "There have been complaints from many students about the liberty of the house elves. They said we should be confined to the kitchen and the night. So we are, now." Remus growled.

"Must be Slytherins. I wouldn't mind seeing you around, and neither would my friends." Libby's big bulging eyes filled with tears again.

"Remus Lupin is a true friend…"

"Quite," Remus sighed. "But how do I get my message to the Marauders if you can't take it? I'm bored to death in here. I really need to tell them that I'm okay and that I want to see them."

"Libby will find a way." The house elf decided, holding out his hand. "Libby will make sure the message is delivered—even if he can't walk the castle where it is light. Libby will take care of it."

"That would be great." Remus beamed. "Thank you very much!" He placed the folded piece of paper in the elf's small hand.

"Will I see you tomorrow?" Libby nodded.

"Special desert!" he reminded the boy, bowed and winked away.

Next chapter: the joyous reunion. If I can think of a prank, they'll pull one. Any ideas (sweats—I'm horribly bad at pranks that aren't childish)??? 


	26. VIRUS 26 Why Lupin is always so civil to...

Hello guys! waves First, thanks for your reviews and for you replies to my Mom/Mum question. Okay, I was wrong. English children never say Mom. My mistake, Raine : ). Kimitha, since you're Scottish, and say Mam, and I made Remus Scottish, I'll have him saying Mam. When I re-update the whole thing, when it's finished, and put it in six big chapters, I'll change Mom to Mam. Mike, I'm sorry, but I think this story will be finished in about another four to six chapters…I still have a lot of ideas but I lack another plot (apart from my little slash story, which I think I will write if I have enough time), so until I find a good plot, I don't think I'll write any other MWPP stories. Sorry. MorganD, I love your huge reviews!  I won't answer your question about the Mirror yet, but you're close. I had a different interpretation, but that doesn't mean that yours is wrong. Lunard, you won't believe me, but I'd just written the part with the flowers when I read your review, and then I decided to use your ideas for a continuation of their pranks. Thanks for the idea! 

Hmmm. Some of you seem to be uncomfortable about bath chamber scenes? I wonder why? Don't you like helpless men? I do : ))

Okay, so far the answering thing (I wish I could set up a forum…but I'm too lazy!) on with the story.

26. Flowers

"Is it me," Sirius wondered aloud, "or is Snape looking even more smug than usual today?" James nodded gloomily.

"He's smiling. Scares me to death, that smile. Like a vulture grinning. Something tells me he has some sort of very unpleasant surprise ready for us."

"Look," Peter added, hiding his mouth in his coffee cup, "he's doing it again."

They all stared across the Gryffindor table to the Slytherin table, and caught Snape watching them with a satisfied expression on his face. Noticing them watching him, the Slytherin grinned widely, in an evil sort of way. Taking out his wand, he gave it a little shake and whispered something.

Get ready to be grateful, gits…Snape's voice whispered breezily in their ears. And then, weep!

"Be grateful?" Lily wondered. "But then…does that mean…?"

"Moony." James grabbed his wand and performed the same spell as Snape had.

You finished the cure? In reply, Snape only grinned more widely. Even from this distance his teeth were shark-like. 

"He did finish the cure." Sirius murmured. And suddenly he grinned, so viciously that Snape's smile bled away. "And he wants us to weep? Oh no, I don't think so!" and to James and Will, who sat a few chairs away, "I did say I'd give him flowers if he managed to make a cure, right?"

"Right…?" Will said, not really understanding what this was all about. James, however, mirrored Sirius's evil grin.

"Right, you did. So, what do you think? Roses," He transformed some baked tomatoes, "or chrysanthemums?" Several strips of bacon grew flower petals and a stem (although their scent was still one of fried pork).

"Both!" Peter said. "And some of those red plushy things." He waved his wand and created a few.

"Add some lilies from me," Lily added, forming the flowers as she spoke.

"O yessss…" Sirius breathed. He transfigured one of the napkins into a slip of thick, glossy paper, and was now writing on it, the tip of his tongue flicking out of and into his mouth with glee.

And to Snape's horror and to the stupefaction of everyone else present, he was presented a bunch of flowers the size of a modest Christmas tree by Sirius, who was tottering beneath the weight of it all. 

"Here, with many thanks and kisses," Sirius whispered loudly, burying Snape beneath reds and greens and whites. "Read the card. We all adore you! Thank you soooo much, Severus!"

"Black!" Snape raged, but Sirius placed a rose between his teeth and winked.

"No, it's nothing, my dear friend! Just a small token of our appreciation. Expect to see many more!

"And yes, that IS a threat, Snape!"

He sauntered away, shaking with laughter. He managed to suppress it until he had reached his friends, and then all Marauders laughed uproariously while Snape threw flowers all over the place and glared at them, at his questioning fellow Slytherins and at everybody who was looking at him.

"Serves him right." Peter chuckled, patting Sirius on the back. "That was the most stylish bouquet I've ever seen. Good work, Padfoot!" His friend laughed.

"Yes, it wasn't bad, was it? And ooh, his face! He wanted to make us feel stupid, well, look at him now. I've never seen him blush before!"

"He did save Remus, though…" Lily began, but James shrugged.

"I'm still not sure he didn't create the virus first. And even if he did, he didn't do it for Remus. He did it for fame, I'm sure. And the fact that he did it, well, I am grateful." He smiled. "I just have a different way of showing him than he probably expected. What did you write on that card?" Sirius grinned.

"'With love and eternal gratitude, the Marauders and Lily.' That'll teach him! I'm sure all the other Slytherins will read it…yes, that's Tatum Tantrum who's reading it right now. Snape wasn't supposed to tell anyone about this whole virus-thing, was he? Hell, he wasn't even supposed to know that he was using the virus! Mister smartipants! Let him explain this!" He drummed his fingers on the table.

"Now…we have to keep this up. The flowers, I mean. I promised Snape. We can't let him down, can we?" James agreed.

"It wouldn't do. Snape should not be in need of flowers for the rest of this semester. He should be reminded of our gratitude all day and all night. I will take care of this night. Those who need my cloak for a visit to the Slytherin dungeons, can borrow it. For a small price." Lily grinned.

"Such as?" He studied her from behind lowered lashes.

"Sex."

"Oh good!" Sirius exclaimed. "I always wanted to have…"

"For you, it's something else," James amended hastily. "Like another box of Zonko pencils." Sirius pouted.

"They've been taken out of the shops, and you know it. You sure you don't want sex? I'm not picky…"

"We noticed, Sirius, and no!" James said sternly. "Down! Go bug Cynthia."

"Bug or bugger?" Lily and Peter chuckled, James sighed.

"We really need Remus back. He's the only one who keeps Sirius bearable."

"Well, aren't we the lucky ones, then," Sirius said cheerfully, brushing crumbs from his chin and standing up. "He'll be back in a few days, thanks to our favourite Slytherin. Do you think I should go over once more to give him a hug?"

"I don't think he'd appreciate it."

"Aw. Well, too bad. I'll hug Cynthia instead. Or James. James likes to be hugged by me, don't you James?" Lily mock-frowned at him.

"You're awfully close to James these days. Is there something between the two of you I should know of?"

"No! Nothing!"

"Well, now you've managed it…" James pushed his friend away. Firmly.

"Off you go, go on, hug Cynthia. She's your girlfriend. Shoo!"

"Hippie love!" Sirius gurgled happily. James kept pushing.

"Yeah yeah, I know how you feel about that. Now go away and leave me in peace.

"Can someone help me here?"

But Sirius had already released him.

"Don't worry, Prongs. I wouldn't want to have sex with you. You're way too skinny to my taste." James heaved a sigh.

"I'm sooo relieved."

"Hey, why's everybody gone? Is it time for…damn, it's five past already."

Peter was already gathering his stuff.

"Let's go, before we all have to serve detention and cannot go and visit Remus—when Madam Pomfrey finally allows us!"

As it turned out, Madam Pomfrey would not allow them the first day, and told them to come back in a few days, but the following morning Render brought them a message. At first they thought it came from Hagrid, but to their immense surprise it was from Remus, although they could not imagine how he'd managed to use the owl. As soon as Sirius had skimmed the letter, he grinned.

"It definitely is from Moony. And by the looks of it he's doing pretty well already."

"Gimme gimme!" Lily begged, and read aloud,

My dear fellow Marauders and Lily of course.

I solemnly swear I am up and doing better. Although some things are rather vague to me—that whole Snape-thing, for instance. Is it true that he made the cure for the virus? I don't get it! And Poppy keeps misdirecting me, saying I'm too weak to understand. You'd say she thinks my brain's softened during my illness. Maybe it did, I don't know. You MUST come over and explain everything to me. I'm bored to death in here. All I'm allowed to do is eat, which isn't so bad, but still…I've attempted to start a conversation with a few chocolate frogs, but they don't share my interests. Besides, they're dwindling. I can only stare at a chocolate frog for so long before eating it. Anyway, I'm doing fine, and I want to make sure you're fine as well, so please come over. Find some way to persuade Poppy to let you in, **please**! If it's up to her, I'll lie here for another three months without company—maybe Sirius could break something? Or say he's broken something? Bound to work.

Please come by soon. If you haven't by tomorrow I'll go and search you out myself. I'll threaten Poppy with that, then she's bound to let you in.

See you!

Remus.

"Okay," Peter said, "now we know what we'll do this afternoon."

"After we've delivered Snape some more flowers." Sirius agreed, and smiled. He had gone with James, the previous night, and although they hadn't been able to get into the Slytherin common room because they did not know the password, they had been able to leave a huge amount of flowers in front of the painting-door. Enough, James hoped, to make some of the Slytherins stumble and fall.

            This morning, they had sneaked into the hall very early, a small bunch of daisies in each hand, and had deposited said daisies on the chair where Snape usually sat. At the moment, Snape's eyes were fastened on James's face, and if the heat in their stare could have been felt, James would carry blisters on his cheeks.

"You do realise," Lily, who was feeling a little guilty and even uncomfortable, said, "that he'll never help us again, when we do need his help?" James shrugged.

"Why would we need his help? And when?"

"I don't know. We might." Sirius waved her objections away.

"Don't worry, he'll find some way to retaliate. I'm sure of it. You'll see, he'll give us reasons to hate him in no time.

"Now, when shall we go and see Remus? Before or after Quidditch?"

"You mean you haven't got a date with Cynthia before and after Quidditch?" Peter asked. Sirius stuck out his tongue.

"Not today, no. She's got to study for the upcoming tests—but thanks for your concern, Peter. I'll make sure I won't miss my afternoon shag." Peter, however, was past his issues.

"Do what you have to," he said haughtily. Sirius grinned. For the first time in quite a few days, he actually seemed his old self again—although he was still dutifully doing his homework and refrained from winding Dorkham up.

Soon, James thought with a pleased smile, it'll all be back to normal. Even if he keeps seeing Cynthia, it will be okay. When Moony's back, we'll go back to our old ways. And won't it be full moon next week? In eight days, or something?

In a sudden fit of happiness, he picked up his coffee cup.

"Shall we toast?" Lily pulled up her eyebrows.

"This early in the morning?"

"I feel like toasting."

"Okay. Well, fine. To Snape, then." They all laughed, and toasted, loudly, to Snape. The subject of their toast gritted his teeth on the other side of the room.

"He doesn't like to be toasted to." Peter said sadly. Sirius shrugged.

"Too bad for him. Sour git. I say, let's toast to Moony, and a quick recovery. We've been out of the Forest far too long."

"Hear, hear." James said, then winced as he drank his coffee. Lily blinked.

"James? Was it your intention to go bright blue?"

"To smurfs!" Snape toasted loudly, and the whole of Slytherin burst into laughter.

"I told you we'd hate him in no time." Sirius said cheerfully.

*

Madam Pomfrey sighed as four well-known faces turned up before her office window.

"Why can't you give the poor boy some rest?" she wondered as she opened the door, but James shook his head.

"Snape told me he was doing better."

"Much better!" added Sirius.

"So we're here to see for ourselves."

"Besides, the poor guy's probably starving for attention." James took over again. "WE're not gonna hurt him, so why won't you let us in?"

"We brought him flowers," Lily said, waving her bunch of transfigured butterbeers in rose-form.

"And chocolate frogs," Peter said slyly. "He's bound to have finished the ones I brought him last time." He all but thrust a handful of frogs into her face.

Madam Pomfrey laughed, opened her mouth to protest, and finally relented.

"Oh fine! Go on in. Just make sure you don't exhaust him. He's still very weak, and I don't want him to fall ill again."

"Understood!" James cheered, and ducked past her into the ICU.

There were two beds in the ICU. One was empty, and in the other sat a skeleton, reading a book. The moment they burst in, the skeleton looked up, and a huge grin split his face in two.

"Hey!" Remus called, closing the book. "Long time no see!

"What?" he added, as they all kept standing there in the doorway, staring at him with wide eyes. "Cat caught your tongue?" Sirius, as usual, was the first to move.

"Good god, Moony…" he took a step forward.

"What?" He laughed.

"You look like hell!" Remus touched his own cheeks with gaunt hands.

"Oh, that's what you mean. Yeah, I lost some weight. And my healthy tan." James grinned. Remus's skin was as pale as the moon, and always had been.

"I did grown, though," the werewolf went on, still smiling mockingly. "Almost an inch. I bet I'm as tall as Sirius now."

"Who cares whether you look like a zombie!" Lily said tactfully, and shouldered her way through her boyfriend and Peter. "I'm so glad you're alright now!" She threw the flowers on the end of the bed and hugged him, careful not to squeeze too hard. As if she'd given the sign, the others rushed in as well now and shook his hands, apart from Sirius, who hugged him as well. Bone-crushingly. 

"Ugghhh…" Remus protested, still grinning—if a little mangled now—and attempted to push Sirius away. "Didn't Poppy tell you to be gentle with me?" Sirius chuckled, but released him.

"Since when do we do what Poppy tells us to do?" He patted Remus's thin shoulder.

"It's good to see you conscious again, mate. The Marauders weren't complete without you."

"Oh, I'm touched."

"I brought you some frogs. I thought you'd probably finished them by now." Remus grinned again, from ear to ear.

"I have! Thanks! Although Poppy stuffs me all day. I'm not going hungry anymore." Nevertheless he immediately unwrapped the frog and aimed it to jump straight into Sirius's face.

"Moony!" Remus chuckled.

"Libby'd kill me if he knew I played with them like this." The Marauders blinked.

"Libby?"

"Good god, Remus, nobody's allowed to see you and you manage to find yourself another woman?" At that, Remus laughed out loud.

"Libby isn't a woman! It's a man, although I'm not sure that's what you call House Elves. Men and women. Libby's a House Elf. He cooks for me—and does a good job, too. He's the one who brought you my letter."

"He tied it to Render?" Sirius sounded disbelieving, but Remus shrugged.

"Why not? Render can't hate everybody, right? 

"But enough about Libby. Tell me about Snape. Aagh, that sounded horrible. But still, I want to know. Did he, or did he not make the virus? And did he make the cure? He really did?"

"Well…" James sighed.

"Yes, he did." And they proceeded to tell him everything that had happened, and all they had found out.

"So," Remus mused, plucking at his lower lip. "Snape did save my life. But Cynthia got attacked while she was at the hospital, supposedly because she knew too much about the disease. Or because she was too close to it, somehow. Or maybe even…because she knew I had it. But for whatever reason they—whoever they are—did it, they did not succeed."

"Right." He thoughtfully chewed a piece of chocolate. One of the frogs was lying disected in front of him on the blanket; every few minutes one of them would take a piece. They'd gone through three frogs already.

"I think Cynthia's been very lucky indeed." Remus finally said. "There's something about this whole situation that stinks, something I have the feeling we're missing."

"Voldemort?" Lily suggested. He shrugged.

"Could be. But how, and why?" Sirius picked up one of the flowers and transfigured it back into a bottle of butterbeer.

"I don't know. Want one?"

"Thanks." He popped the lid, took a sip. The other Marauders took a bottle as well.

"But there are a couple of things, of facts, we know for sure." Sirius said, wiping his mouth. 

One," he stuck out his index finger, "whether Snape made the virus or not, he did make the cure, and that will look very well on his C.V. indeed. Two: Lucius Malfoy wants you dead, and he wants Snape to get some kind of tattoo. Three," he tapped his middle finger, "when Cynthia went to the hospital, someone attacked her, or the hospital. Maybe the library. As Cynth said, many of the books were destroyed. Perhaps old Mungo kept some secrets someone was afraid would leak out."

"Such as his as of yet unsurpassed recipe for mullberry wine." Remus drawled sleepily. He stretched his arms behind his head, balanced his half-empty bottle on his thighs, closed his eyes. "As long as nobody knows what's in those books, we're getting nowhere."

Sirius nodded.

"I wonder," he said slowly, romantic surfacing, "whether the lake's still accessible after all this rain."

"I don't see why not. If anything happened to it, it's only become bigger."

"How many days from now?"

"Seven. There will be a full moon on the night of the 25th." Remus sighed happily. "You know I'm actually looking forward to it? Even going to the Shack, and staying there? Let alone…" He inhaled deeply, tasting the air, nodded to himself, "let alone going into the Forest again." Lily rubbed the neck of her bottle.

"Are you sure you should go into the Forest this soon? I mean, you almost died of this disease." Remus shrugged.

"I don't care. Yes, I want to go into the Forest—hell, I've actually been dreaming about it all the time, although most of the time those dreams included my mother and a yeti, so…" he smiled faintly. "But yes. I want to go. So please don't tell me you won't help me." Suddenly worried, he looked his fellow Marauders in the eyes. "You will come with me, won't you? You won't leave me locked up now, right?"

"Don't worry," Peter said for his friends. "We won't. We'll come with you. You're not the only one who's grown used to a monthly midnight adventure, you know."

"That's right," James said, and raised his butterbeer. "To nightly adventures."

"Cheers!"

Their bottles clanked together, even Lily's although her expression was slightly sour. However, she knew that she couldn't stop them if they wanted to go, and it would only lead to unpleasant rows with James if she tried. So she toasted with the rest of them.

"But please, be careful, all of you," she couldn't help saying, but the boys just laughed.

"Of course we will. Aren't we always?"

"Besides," said Remus, "I'm sure we'll be able to plan everything ahead just fine. I won't be staying here for a whole week. Madam Pomfrey's bound to let me out before that."

Pouff.

James, Lily, Peter and Sirius started as a house elf suddenly appeared beside Remus's bed, a well-filled tray in his hands. Remus himself hardly blinked.

"Dinner?" he asked pleasantly. The elf nodded.

"Special desert!" He pointed at the towering cake that took most of the space on the tray. "Libby is so…Oh. Remus Lupin has visitors…"

The Marauders all smiled.

"So this is Libby." Sirius said. He gave the elf a little wave. "Hi, Libby! Remus's told us a lot about you already—especially how well you cook." 

Libby flushed purple.

"He…he did?"

"O yes," Lily took over. "He's told us all about you. And for a reason, if I look at that cake!" Doing so, she could not help but swallow; it was half past four, and dinner seemed a long time away. Remus grinned.

"You can all have a piece, if you want. Have you tasted it yourself, Libby?" Libby nodded, then shook his head, then nodded again. Remus cut him a piece of cake and pushed it into his nervously twitching fingers.

"Here. Eat it.

"Excuse me, lads, while I start eating. James, would you cut the cake into five even pieces?"

James snorted.

"As if I'd cheat your gangly carcass out of a piece of cake." Remus muttered something that sounded suspiciously like 'I wouldn't put it past you', but when James looked up, piqued, he was already stuffing rice into his mouth and shook his head.

"If noffing."

Within five minutes, Remus finished his plate, all of them finished the cake, which was excellent, and Libby took off again, red with pleasure and praise. They talked for a short while, but at five Sirius checked his watch and said that they should be going.

"I need to pick some flowers before dinner, for Snape."

"Excuse me?" Remus blinked. "Did I hear what I thought I heard? Are you picking Snape flowers?"

Sirius laughed, and told him the great flower-donation. Remus laughed as well, although not as hard as his friends had thought he would.

"Poor Snape."

"There's nothing poor about him." James said hotly. "My ears are still blue at the tips." 

"Still. He did save my life."

"After bringing it in danger!"

"You don't know that for sure." James shook his head.

"Moony, he may saved your life, but he didn't do it for you. You could have died for all he cared, he said so." But Remus shrugged.

"Does that really matter?" he wondered. "Last year, you almost let me kill Snape." Sirius looked away, but Remus touched his arm reassuringly. "This isn't an accusation, just a metaphor. You took Snape and put him in danger, and then you saved his life. Does that make the deed itself any less brave, or does it change the facts? No." He thoughtfully tapped his thin fingers against the bottle's glass.

"Whatever reasons Snape had for making the antidote; gaining fame, assuring a job in the future, it doesn't matter. He's saved my life. After I almost killed him, I might add. So, now I owe him twice."

"Moony!" Sirius cried, aghast. "You owe Snape nothing! Nothing at all!"

"O yes," Remus said, "I do. Whether I like it or not. And," he sighed, "I have the unpleasant feeling that I'll owe him a lot more in the future."

"What do you mean by that?" Peter asked. His friend shrugged.

"Just a hunch—Poppy's coming!"

Four wands pointed at the empty bottles, and a moment later five roses lay innocently on top of the covers. Only now they were white instead of yellow. Madam Pomfrey did not seem to notice.

"Are you still here?" she asked rhetorically. The Marauders nodded. "Well, you'd better go.

Remus, I got you the Divination books, and a few other books for Defence Against the Dark Arts. You'll find your essay topics on the loose page in the middle."

"Poor chap," James sighed. "Barely conscious and already doing homework."

"I'm glad I can finally read again without feeling like my head'll burst." Remus replied calmly. He gave a tug at Sirius's sleeve as the boy prepared to stand up. 

"Stop giving Snape flowers. I'm sure he's got the point by now."

"If you want it that way…" Remus smiled.

"I do."

"Man, you're too good for this world! But fine, no more flowers for Snape."

"Why on earth not?" wondered Madam Pomfrey.

"He doesn't like them." Remus said earnestly, and his friends chuckled.

"You could say that again! Bye, Remus!"

"See you tomorrow, Moony!"

"See you!"

"See you!"

They were gone, and Remus gazed up at Madam Pomfrey.

"When will they see me again?"

She knew exactly what he meant.

"Tomorrow you'll have to stay here. And maybe the day after tomorrow. After that, I think you can go back to your own dormitory—or even follow classes again, if you take care."

"So. Two days?" Madam Pomfrey smiled.

"Yes, Remus. Two days.

"Now, drink your potion like a good boy."

Next chapter: Remus returns to class. Maybe a little party if I feel like it. In one of the following chapters, Remus finally loses his calm and goes into a tantrum (yay!)


	27. VIRUS 27

Hello! Here we are again! Soon, isn't it? Okay, you'll notice that this chapter's a bit chaotic, but that's because I want to hurry it up and I'll be working next week, a genuine nine to five job, and I don't know if I have a lot of time while I work. I'll probably need some time to adjust (never really worked before) so I just write as much as I can and you must excuse sloppiness. I'll reread the whole thing when it's finished, and improve things that are wrong (such as their Care of Magical Creatures with the Augurey, when they don't HAVE any COMC because of the virus and such). Okay, reactions to reviews (please keep 'em coming!!!): Nemesister Raptor, you're no nag : ) I'm just extremely fond of helpless men : )) 0. Don't worry, I'll keep on writing. MorganD, in your review you portray Snape's exactly like I see him. The reason why his participation to creating the cure must be kept a secret is this: He's a child—almost an adult, as wizards, in my view, come of age sooner than muggles, but still a child—and no wizard would accept it if a mere child were to let loose on a virus that might turn into a plague. Second, because the ignorant adults think that Snape might waver if he knew what terrible disease he was working with. Let alone his parents, if he has them. For the rest…my plot wouldn't have worked, if everybody knew Snape was working on a cure : ) Lunard, your question makes good sense, but she isn't : ) And if you see any mistakes in my language, don't hesitate to tell me! I'm not a native English speaker, so if you see an error, just tell me. I don't mind. I didn't see them myself, where are the extra ss? I'll remove them.

27. The return of Remus

The following day, Remus was all but buried beneath an avalanche of visitors. First to come was Julie, hoisting a swollen bag of puddings, fruit and juices with her.

"Sirius told me you were doing better." she said, after a good minute silence while she studied his emaciated frame. "I thought…I'd come and pay you a visit."

She fed him half the bag's contents, and kissed him on the mouth when she left. When she was gone, Remus stared blindly into space for a few minutes, a goofy smile on his face. But then Sidh Patil and Will and his sister, and Emily Endale and a few other Gryffindors burst into the room, soon followed by some befriended Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws. They all left when lunch break was over, and then, to his enormous surprise, Cynthia walked in, grinning widely.

"Hi!" she said, and sat down on the edge of his bed. "Are you completely recovered now?"

He had not seen her ever since he started to cough up blood—ever since she'd gone to the hospital, he now realised. He wondered what she was doing here.

"Yeah…I guess I am." Automatically he pulled back as she reached out her hand to touch his forehead. He couldn't help it, her proximity made his hackles rise. "I haven't got a fever, if that's what you want to know."

Her smile faltered.

"I…I just wanted to make sure you were okay now," she said. "Because you were so ill when I left…"

"I'm fine." He tried to smile, but it just wouldn't do. He simply did not like her, although he couldn't say why. Maybe because she was so much like Sirius, but then in girl-form.

No, that's not it. I like Sirius, with all his self-centeredness and his wild affection. Why would those traits repel me when they're part of a woman?

He grinned, suddenly, and Cynthia echoed his grin, almost as if she were thankful he didn't frown at her anymore.

Maybe strong-willed women scare me.

"I'm fine, Cynthia," he said, and awkwardly patted her arm. "Thanks for asking." She beamed.

"Good! When will Madam Pomfrey let you go?"

"Two days." She clacked her tongue.

"So…that's the twentieth, isn't it?" He shrugged.

"If it's the twentieth in two days, yes. Why?" He wasn't sure, but he thought that he saw something calculating in her eyes. But then she smiled.

"Nothing! Well, Sirius's birthday. But that's next month so…You must be so happy!"

"I am, Cynthia. I am."

Now go away. You give me the creeps.

Cynthia went, and left him staring at the ceiling, thoughtfully munching a chocolate frog.

The next day he studied most of the time, and wrote an essay for DaDA to make up for all the hours he'd missed. He was just busy drawing a lunar map for Divination when Madam Pomfrey waltzed in with a syringe, told him to bare his arm and injected him with another of Snape's concoctions. 

"There. You will need to get the next one in four days. So, I guess I'll see you then." Remus blinked.

"Then? You mean I can go?" She smiled.

"That's what I mean, Remus. You're doing so well it seems a crime to keep you confined here any longer. Besides, I could use the bed. I swear, the accidents resulting from Quidditch…! Anyway, if you hurry, you can even make it to dinner."

"Hurry?" Remus asked with a look at the clock. "It isn't half past five yet." Madam Pomfrey's smile turned a little pitiful. 

"That might be so, but I'm sure you'll be glad to have some time before dinner is served," she said. "Before you've climbed all those stairs to change, then descended them all again, you'll see you've lost at least half an hour."

"Mwooah," Remus waved carelessly. "You underestimate my willpower, sir. You'll see, I'll be way early for dinner."

"Who am I to doubt your strength?" Madam Pomfrey teased, and studied him as he got out of bed and gathered his books and remaining chocolate frogs together. "Well, at least you're not so awfully thin anymore. However, I'll make sure you'll get something extra every few hours.

"Oh, here's a robe, you'd better put it on. It's so cold in those wide halls; I don't want you to catch a cold."

"No," Remus grinned. "That'd be rather stupid, wouldn't it?" He looked around, taking in the small, cosy room. "I hope I won't ever have to stay in here again." The medical witch sighed.

"I'm afraid you'll have to, dear. And in quite short a while too. The moon…"

"The moon's almost a week away," Remus said firmly. "I don't want to think about that right now." He secured his grip on the books and the frogs.

"Well. Thanks, I guess. And…see you, in four days. Does it really have to be injected?"

"Yes, Remus, it has to. It works much better that way." He stuck out his tongue.

"Ah well. Can't expect Snape to alter his ways…Good bye, Madam Pomfrey!"

"Good bye."

He turned, walked through her office, and left the infirmary.

Four sets of stairs later, Remus understood what Madam Pomfrey had meant with her 'if you hurry' comment. Walking did not pose a problem, but all those staircases…he had to take a few minutes to catch his breath after every ten steps, rest his legs and lean against the wall. But he made it, finally, plunked down on his bed—his own, red four poster—and took a deep breath.

Home.

It wasn't home, of course, but it was the closest to home while he was at Hogwarts. Sometimes, he wasn't even sure where he'd rather be: here, or at the cottage near McPherson's Wood. Or with whom, rather. He loved his parents, and he loved being at home, but these last few years, nothing actually beat being together with the Marauders and scour the Hogwarts grounds. He grinned.

In a few days, Moony!

Fifteen minutes after he had changed, Peter came running up in search of a Muggle Studies book and found Remus lying spread out on his bed, dreaming with his eyes open.

"Remus!"

"Peter!"

"You're here!"

"Yes!"

"When did she let you go?"

"This afternoon." He sat up, shrugged his shoulders in his now too-loose Gryffindor sweater and robes. "Since no one came to visit me…"

"Liza Wood barred the way to the infirmary," Peter explained, grinning. "She insisted on playing a mock-game against Hufflepuff. Two more weeks and we're playing Slytherin!"

"Two weeks? Damn, I've been out of it for such a long time."

"You'll be out of it even longer if you stay here. They're all taking a shower now, but they should be ready in a few moments, and then we're gathering in the common room." He hesitated.

"Um."

"What?" Remus asked, tying his shoelaces.

"Cynthia's here as well."

"So?"

"Well…I thought you didn't really like her."

"I don't. But that doesn't mean that her face makes me puke, you know." Peter laughed. 

"Are you coming then?"

"Sure. I'm done."

Together, they walked down to the common room, where quite a few Gryffindors were already gathered together. The hearth was blazing, and all the reds and yellows in the room reflected the warmth like a summer's day.

"Hey, Remus! You're back!"

Before he knew it, Remus was standing in the middle of a great many students, shaking hands as if he had just won the House Cup. Some of the girls even kissed him, which embarrassed him to no account, although he had to laugh when Emily Endale whispered in his ear, 

"I'm so glad you're back, you can't imagine! Sirius's been perfectly horrible! The things he does with his food…! I'm so glad you're back!"

And Sidh said that he'd felt very lonely during Divination.

"You must have this major influence on my inner eye," he deadpanned dramatically. "I couldn't see a thing in my tea-leaves."

He'd never known he was so popular.

"Damn," he said, laughing and holding up his hands to get some space, "I see I should've brought Champagne and cake!"

"You're right about that mate!" Sirius, hopping down from the last step, yelled. "Why didn't you? You can be sure we're all starving!"

"Didn't have the time!" Remus cried back. James, combing his wet bangs out of his eyes, appeared behind Sirius and pushed him out of the way.

"Move your fat arse, Padfoot. You're blocking the stairs. Lily down here already?

"Hey, Remus! What's this word about Champagne and cake?"

"Only that I haven't got any." He fought his way through a throng of happy first years, who didn't have a clue why everybody was hugging Remus, but weren't averse to joining the fun. "I haven't seen Lily yet."

But Lily came skipping down the stairs only seconds later, and promptly bumped into James, who was still standing on the lowest step.

"I'm not fat! Lily, am I fat?"

"You?" Lily studied Sirius's body from behind lowered eyelids. "Well…I wouldn't know. James always covers my eyes when you're naked." She grinned. "Cynthia?"

Remus hadn't seen Cynthia yet, but now he noticed her, sitting on the arm of one of the overstuffed chairs. She grinned.

"I don't mind a bit of fat on a man. Gives me something to hold on to, you know…"

"That's disgusting." James moaned. Peter, however, seemed to cheer up.

"You're only jealous." Sirius sniffed. "And you," a prodding finger in Cynthia's chest, "should be very careful with what you say, or you won't have anything to hold on to." 

"Oooh…" Cynthia purred. "Is that a threat?"

"Well…kind of…"

Cynthia, Lily noticed, no longer looked jumpy anymore. She never looked around her like she used to do, as if she were afraid she was being watched or could be attacked any moment. While she talked, she casually touched Sirius's arm, caressed his shoulder, leaned in to him if he stood close to her, instead of pulling away, as she had done ever since she came back from the Hospital. Whatever it was that had disturbed her, she'd either gotten over it, or eliminated it. This pleased Lily.

Cynthia was far too smart and mature and beautiful to be a true friend to her, but at least it was another girl. In this world of Marauders, she sometimes felt a little lonely, but Cynthia added a bit of much-needed feminine spirit, and she was grateful for her presence. She also had a positive influence on Sirius, she thought, although James maintained that she did not. But Cynthia brought out the romantic in Sirius, the aspect Lily liked most of him, and that alone deserved her praise. And now with Remus cured, Cynthia back to normal and Quidditch going almost professional, Lily felt that life couldn't become much better. She sighed with happiness, and waved James's inquiring look away.

"It's nothing. Nothing at all. I'm just happy." James grinned.

"Just happy? Not hungry?"

"Well, that as well, of course…" Remus held up his hands.

"Okay already! I'll try to find us something to eat. After all, we have another whole hour until dinner, right? Can't have us starving." Peter raised his eyebrows.

"And where, pray tell, are you going to find enough food to stuff over twenty people?" Remus grinned, and began to walk to the door.

"Peter, Peter. Isn't that obvious? I mean, did I introduce your for nothing?" James clacked his tongue, and opened the portrait.

"Libby." he said, eyes glittering.

"Bingo."

"Moony, remind me to give you something really grand for Christmas. How about a diamond-inlayed collar?" Remus stuck out his tongue.

"You want anything to eat or no? Then shut up and follow me."

Five Gryffindors and one Ravenclaw sasha-ed down the stairs to the kitchen, whooping and laughing, joking and teasing, and Remus walked in front, arms akimbo to keep his still precarious balance. But he wasn't afraid that he would fall. After all, if he fell, he would be caught.

Libby was more than happy to provide them with some cakes and cookies. As always, he wore his towels like some sort of overlong shirt, but on his shoulder perched, like a sticky parrot, Remus's chocolate frog.

"Libby takes good care of him!" the house elf said, lovingly caressing the frog over the head. He licked his finger. "Frog very sweet."

"You bet," Sirius said. "That's one of those great things about chocolate. It's sweet. Especially when you eat it." Cynthia elbowed him in the stomach, causing him to go 'Oufff!' and bend double.

"Don't be insensitive. If he wants to take care of the frog, let him. Have you ever tasted Chewing gum? I still have some Balloon Bubble from Honeydukes." Libby eagerly accepted the bright pink packet.

"You is all so good to Libby!"

James almost felt guilty. But why? It wasn't as if they were cheating the little fellow; he could give them whatever he wanted, and their very presence seemed enough to make him happy. Still, he felt like he was misusing Libby. And by the slight frown on Remus's brow, his friend felt the same about it.

However, as they climbed back a few minutes later, their pockets filled with cookies and sweets, and their arms loaded with cakes, he no longer felt guilty. He felt hungry.

"If only we had some butterbeer as well…" Sirius sighed. Remus gave him a stern look.

"Padfoot, you ask me for food, I go and get you food. Don't push it. I'm sure Mister Grigott'd become suspicious if we rose up from his cellar and demanded to buy butterbeer. Me, I'd like a cup of tea. Why don't you go and make me one?"

"Oh yes, that's an excellent idea," Lily piped up. "Do, Sirius! I'll even swap you a ginger scone if you do."

Sirius sighed.

"Me equals work horse."

"With honey, if you please," Remus urged. "I'm parched. Won't you aid your poor, recovering friend?" He held out a quivering hand. Sirius rolled his eyes.

"Oh, fine! I'll go and brew a gallon of tea. Any preferences? No? Earl Grey, then. Coming Cynth?"

They both ran upstairs. James chuckled.

"Welcome back, oh commander of Padfeet. I wonder how you manage. I know I can't make him do things he doesn't want to do."

"Oh, just a hint of weakness, a dollop of guilt and a bit of charisma," Remus said airily. "You know how it works." Facing the stairs to Gryffindor tower, he took a deep breath.

"Right. Here we go again."

"We can wait, if you need to take a rest."

"Do I look like I need rest?" Remus said threateningly. Lily smiled.

"Yes, you do. Why don't you have one of my scones? They're really good."

"These brownies aren't half bad either. Swap you one for a scone?"

"Deal."

They sat on the stairs, eating scones and brownies, until Cynthia came running down again to see what was keeping them.

            Not much was eaten that night at dinner, by the Gryffindors. At least, not much of the cauliflower and sausages. Apart, of course, from Remus, who was still recovering from his two weeks of near starvation and had, Will remarked with awe, a stomach like a bottomless pit.

As he lay in bed that night, head swirling with tiredness and brandy (Sidh Patil had dug up a bottle from the bottom of his trunk), lips tingling with kisses from a certain Ravenclaw girl who had breezed in to say hello, and voice once more hoarse from talking and shouting, Remus could not remember ever being happier.

My ultimate Patronus moment, he thought hazily, but was far too tired and pleased to think about Dementors or Lethifolds. He finally felt as if he belonged, not only with the Marauders, but with the rest of Gryffindor as well.

And that even if they find out that I'm a werewolf, they won't mind all that much. He sighed, and stretched, revelling to be back in his own bed. Outside, the moon was almost round, but unlike other evenings, it did not fill him with fear, only with excitement.

Cheers, moon! I will howl for you, when the wolf takes over.

With that in mind, he closed his eyes and almost immediately fell asleep.

The following three days Remus ran from classroom to classroom, wrote down assignments he'd missed, copied notes, read up on chapters and had a private hour with Dumbledore to study the Kraken, who now seemed to be more than just good friends with the Giant Squid, and performed a land-drenching love dance seven times a day.

"Great, isn't it?" Dumbledore exclaimed after one of those dances, while he wrung the water out of his beard. "Especially those fountains, and the rainbows. Krakens have style."

"Yes, rather," Remus agreed, shivering in his soaked clothes.

"I cannot remember other Krakens falling in love and mating—although of course, they must have before. There are at least a hundred more Krakens—oh, you must be freezing. Desiccato." A flush of water fell down around Remus's feet. "Where was I?"

"The Kraken mating."

"Ah, yes. Well, I'm proud to say that Mr Scamander himself will visit Hogwarts next week to observe the mating ritual between our Squid and the Kraken."

"Scamander…?" Remus mused, wondering where he'd heard that name before. Dumbledore grinned.

"Mr Newton Scamander. He wrote Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. Splendid chap. I'm sure he'd like to meet you too, mister Lupin. He also founded the Werewolf Registry in 1947."

"Huh." Remus muttered, without much enthusiasm. The Headmaster raised his eyebrows.

"Do I sense a less than joyous reaction?" Remus shrugged.

"It's all very well, the Registry and all, but…Let's just say I don't enjoy going there." The man's twinkling eyes softened, as did his voice as he asked,

"You need to contact them once in how many years now?"

"Once every four years." He sighed. "This year will be the last time; after this year, I'll need to check up every seven years. Thank god."

"Is it that much of a bother?"

"Bother isn't the right word. It's…painful. Embarrassing. Degrading, even. I don't really want to talk about it."

"As you wish." Dumbledore briefly rested his long, bony hand on the boy's shoulder. "Although you can always come to me if you need help. For your school work, and also for your condition. And it might be fruitful to talk with Mr Scamander. He founded the Registry, but he rarely deals with it now. If its methods need to be improved, who can tell him so better than someone who's a werewolf himself?" Remus nodded.

"Alright. I'll see."

"Good. Now, mister Lupin, how are your defensive charms?"

Between classes, reruns and homework, he had little time to spare. A few times he attempted to start a conversation with Snape, but the Slytherin brushed him off with a sharp, "I don't want your gratitude. Just remember it, Lupin. And remind your simple-minded friends. Now bugger off, I'm busy."

Snape's behaviour irritated him, mainly because he was grateful, and he wouldn't mind showing it, but Snape rebuked him, and that made him feel like a fool.

"Ah, you know Snape," James said easily. "He likes being a bastard." He couldn't understand why Remus took Snape's unpleasantness so hard. Everybody knew Snape didn't even know how to be civil. But Remus shook his head.

"I know he's a bastard. That's why I'm so surprised he doesn't want my thanks. I mean, that would be his ultimate revenge, wouldn't it? Me thanking him in public for saving my life."

"You weren't planning on doing that, were you?" James asked, aghast.

            They were on their way to the infirmary to get Remus's injection. Sirius had offered to come along, but when Lily had made a casual remark about a certain essay to be handed in the following day he had cursed, muttered something about high marks, and disappeared into the library. Peter had gone as well, and no one seemed to know where he was.

"Maybe he's spying on that Slytherin girl," James had mused aloud. "He needs an issue, after all."

Now he stared at his other friend, mouth opening and closing without uttering a sound. Remus smiled.

"You'll catch flies." James shut his mouth with a click.

"Remus. You simply can't go and humiliate yourself like that."

"I don't see it like a humiliation. He saved my life, and people should know that. And maybe, just maybe, if I reach out to him in public, he'll stop hinting at me being…you know."

"He never will, and you know it. Hell, Remus, he loves baiting you! And his threat to expose you isn't directed at you alone, you know. It's a threat to all of the Marauders. He knows that we know. He knows we'd stand up for you, all of us. What do you think will happen if your secret's revealed?"

"Dumbledore'll be forced to expel me." Remus said quietly. "Or lose a hundred pupils. If he's allowed to remain Headmaster at all. I know. It's just…" He sighed. "It's difficult to hate someone. But it's even more difficult to stop hating someone and finding out that your feelings don't matter at all to the other person." James smiled.

"Now you sound like you want to start an intimate relationship with him." Remus laughed as well.

"Not in a hundred years, my friend.

"Well, here we are. Are you coming in with me, or will you wait outside?"

"I'll come with you."

They entered the infirmary, and the first person they saw was Cynthia, who was preparing a potion under Madam Pomfrey's guidance. Remus halted, but James smiled and waved.

"Cynthia! I didn't know you were back at the infirmary. Sirius's been searching for you." The girl shook her long hair out of her face.

"I'm not. Back at the infirmary, that is. I'm only here to see the end of the Hundred Year Bloom." She pointed at the potion. "It's supposed to work miracles for people inflicted with face-warping hexes." And with a glance at Remus, "You're here for your injection? Madam Pomfrey said you'd come today."

"Did she now," Remus said, with a questioning glance at the medical witch. Madam Pomfrey nodded cheerfully.

"I hope you don't mind, love, but since she already knows of your…condition, I didn't think you would. Besides, I needed her help with the salvaging potion." She poured a few drops of bright green fluid into her potion, stirred, and nodded.

"That should do it for now. You'd better come to the ICU, Remus."

James and Remus followed her as she went to the small room, and Cynthia sauntered after them as well, closing the door behind her.

"Here, sit down. It might sting a bit. I already had it ready…there it is." Remus pulled up his sleeve, she patted the inside of his elbow and praised his clear veins. They were hard to miss on his thin arms, James thought. They hardly needed patting.

Cynthia said so as well.

"You're not gaining much weight, are you?" she asked. "I saw how much you ate, but I can't see it on your body." Remus shrugged, then sat very still as Madam Pomfrey told him to keep still, and inserted the needle. Snape's potion crawled slowly into his blood.

"I feel fine," he said curtly. She nodded.

"Your Change…" her eyes flicked first to Madam Pomfrey, then to James, then back to Remus, "It's in two days, isn't it?" Remus stiffened, but nodded.

"You pay great attention to the moon, don't you?" he asked coldly. "All for my sake? I'm touched." 

Suddenly, James was glad Sirius wasn't here. It was rather unsettling to hear calm, gentle Remus snark like this. Cynthia blushed.

"Yeah, well…"

"That should do it." Madam Pomfrey, oblivious to Remus's sarcasm, retrieved the needle. "What is it, dear? What did you say?"

"I said," Cynthia continued, "that Remus will Change in two days." The medical witch pursed her lips.

"Yes, I think so. Full moon is on the twenty-fifth."

"It's still very cold outside." She fastened her pretty eyes on Remus, who stared back with open enmity. "You're staying at the Shrieking Shack during your Change, right?"

Remus said nothing. He was growing increasingly pale, James noticed. He wondered whether it was with embarrassment or anger. Remus resented discussing anything to do with his Change. Cynthia flung up her hands.

"Don't look at me that way! All I'm thinking is, it must be pretty cold in there right now. And you're still recovering. Maybe it'd be better if…"

"No." Remus said, voice so low it was almost a growl. Madam Pomfrey studied him with astonishment, before nodding at Cynthia.

"I hadn't even thought about that. You're right, lass, it's awfully cold out there. Remus, it wouldn't be such a bad idea if you…"

"NO!" Remus barked. He was livid now, eyes blazing.

"Mister Lupin," Madam Pomfrey started, growing angry, but he met her stare head-on.

"I will not," he snarled, "be given any potions, or tied down, or taken somewhere else because she," an threatening finger at Cynthia, "says I'm too frail to deal with autumn weather. I've spent SIX fucking years in that shack, in summer and winter and during frost and rain and sleet and hail and I WON'T stay anywhere else now!"

"You will do, mister Lupin, whatever I say you will do." 

Remus stood up. He was a few inches taller than she was. This was the first time she noticed; he usually slouched, or was seated while she treated him.

"No, I won't." he said icily. "I simply won't. It's a matter of principle. I won't drink any potion that will alter my Change, and I won't let you take me anywhere else. I'm sorry, but that's all I have to say about that."

"Remus, be reasonable," Cynthia began. "You're only just back on your feet…"

"And you can shut up." Remus snapped. "You don't give a shit about me, so stop pretending that you do." The girl shook her head.

"I only want to…"

"Well stop doing so!" He ripped his sleeve down, and it tore with a loud shriek. James had never seen him so angry.

"Moony," he began, but Remus held up his hand to halt any flow of words.

"Don't you start as well," he warned, and it truly was a warning. Don't you start as well. Or you'll be sorry. James shut his mouth.

"I will stay in the Shack, the night after tomorrow," Remus intoned. "I will perfectly alright. And I will hit anyone who tries to direct me otherwise. I've had it with potions and tethers." He paused, took a deep breath. 

"Thanks for the injection, Madam Pomfrey. I'll see you in two days." And he stormed out of the infirmary. Cynthia closed her eyes.

"I only wanted to suggest that he'd be kept safe and warm," she said softly. "Not that he'd be tethered or drugged." 

"I know, dear," Madam Pomfrey soothed, still frowning angrily. "He's overreacting. I'll talk to him." 

James rolled to his feet; both women started as if they'd forgotten that he was there.

"I don't think that'd be a good idea," he said, with a small smirk. "He's pissed off now. Trust me, you don't want to try and convince Remus of something when he's in a mood like this one."

"You talk with him, then," Madam Pomfrey begged, but James shook his head.

"Why should I? I think he's right. He's spent I don't know how many nights in there, and it's never hurt him." He leaned against the wall, long legs crossed at the knees. "He's been ill for two weeks straight, and you've kept him in bed for another week, and now you expect him to give up the one chance he's got to be free, really free?"

"But what if he goes into the Forest?" Cynthia asked anxiously. James shrugged.

"What if he does? I don't think he will—there's the Whomping Willow, right?—but even if he does, so what? We've got the antidote now. And he is okay now, isn't he? I mean, he isn't sick anymore. He's got his old healing system back. He won't catch colds or anything."

"But he might hurt himself." James frowned.

"And why should you care?"

"Mister Potter!" Madam Pomfrey cried, but he just shrugged.

"If Remus can deal with the effects of the Change, I don't see why you couldn't. After all, he's dealt with it for twelve years already, and if he wants to suffer the consequences, I say, let him."

"But…" Cynthia shook her head, "Don't you care that he'll be cold and hurting…"

"Of course I care!" James snapped. "Don't be such a self-righteous git! He's my friend, of course I care about him. But he won't be cold when he's a wolf, and he's always in pain during the Change, and nothing will change that. No potions, no leashes, no nothing. So why don't you just cut the poor guy some slack and let him stay in the bloody Shack, if he wants to?"

Cynthia looked down, tears beading on her lower lashes, but James thought it misplaced sentiment. 

"I'm going," he announced, and attempted a friendly smile towards Madam Pomfrey, which did not really succeed. His mouth was drawn with irritation and refused to curve into a proper smile. "I'll see you…when I do. Bye Madam Pomfrey. Cynth." 

He walked out of the door and into the hallway, turning towards the Quidditch pitch. Somehow, he was convinced Remus would be out there—and that the boy needed someone to confide in. He rolled his eyes as swift footsteps ran after him.

"James! Wait!" He kept on walking.

Cynthia caught up with him, grabbed his shoulder.

"Wait! Damn it, James, slow down. I…"

"You're wrong." he said coolly. "Out of your league I might even say." She raised her eyebrows.

"Because I said I didn't want him to be…"

"No, because you told him to his face that he's a weak little boy and that you can make the sole woman he trusts lock him up."

"That's not what I meant!" Cynthia hissed.

"No?"

"No! I just…I just don't want him to become ill again. That's all.

"Look," she pleaded, "I know I haven't been all that subtle and such, but I truly like Remus. And I don't want him to die. Not after what I've been through. If he goes back into the Forest…"

"He isn't anywhere near dying, Cynth. And he won't be going into the Forest. Why should he? And how? There's the Whomping Willow, like I said…"

By now they had reached the rusty door to the Quidditch pit, and he turned around before opening it.

"Stop interfering with the Marauders," James said, and his eyes were hard and cold behind his glittering glasses. "You're a nice girl, really, and we all like you, but you shouldn't interfere with our business. And Remus being a werewolf IS our business, and ours alone. No, it's Remus's business. Leave it alone, Cynthia." With a final nod, he opened the door, slipped outside, and closed it behind him.

He waited a few seconds to see whether she would follow him, but as the door remained closed, he turned around and walked towards the pit. His shoes sank away in the deep slush; the result of a three-day typically Scottish downpour. The mud made it easy to track Remus. His foot prints led a clear trail onto the pitch, to the Gryffindor stands.

            He looked very small and very thin, standing against the yellow and red tower, shoulders hunched against the cold, hands balled to quivering white fist at his sides.

"How dare she!" he hissed as he noticed James. "How dare she meddle in my affairs! As if I haven't had enough trouble without her 'good advice'!"

James put his hands in his pockets, went to stand next to him, leaning his back against the wood.

"Calm down. She was only being a considerate nurse."

"Considerate!" Remus spat. "I swear, if she tries to be considerate with me one more time, I'll kill her! Considerate! Dreadful female! She isn't considerate, she wants me locked up, that's what she wants!"

"O come on, you're overreacting."

"I'm not!"

"Yes you are." He tried to catch Remus's eyes, but his friend was too angry to be reasonable, so he just spoke to the boy's profile. "Whether you like her or not, you'll have to admit that Cynthia'll make a great nurse." Remus growled. James ignored him.

"She felt awful for not being able to heal you, and now she found out that you stay in the Shack while you Change, and she thought: this is my chance to do something for that poor, skinny boy." Remus refused to smile.

"She could have told me first," he snarled. "Instead of posing it as a 'solution' to Madam Pomfrey straight away. What solution!? I'm perfectly happy the way I was, why should she come and talk about me being cold in there?" he took a deep breath. "I know what you're thinking James, and wish I could say this to her face too, but I'm sorry, but I couldn't, I was going to hit her, and hard too. Meddling little bitch! But I swear, the moment Madam Pomfrey breathes something about giving me another one of Dorkham's potions, I'll run away. I'll run away to the Forest, and it'll be on her head if I bite someone!"

"Don't be ridiculous," James said calmly. "You wouldn't do such a thing. You're not going anywhere without our supervision." And when Remus glared at him with eyes sparking with anger, "You know how awful you'd feel if you bit anyone. Let alone killed anyone. You'd hate yourself."

"Hate!" Remus spat. "You don't even know what that is."

"And you do? Because some ignorant girl interferes with your plans, because she wants to impress her tutor with her medical skills? Please." Remus flushed an ugly red.

"Just on whose side are you anyway!?" James frowned.

"I'm on your side. I've always been or your side, although you don't seem to be able to understand that. What Cynthia just did annoyed the hell out of me, and I told her to mind her own business. But that doesn't mean that you aren't overreacting. You know what Ravenclaws are like; all study and devotion. Well, she's just the same."

"But I'm no study subject." Remus said, still tightly, but with less anger. "And I don't want her devotion. And I've told her so I don't know how many times. Why can't she just keep it to Sirius?" James laughed.

"Because Sirius isn't an ill werewolf."

"Keep it quiet!

"I'm not ill anymore either. So she hasn't got any reason to follow me with her wise suggestions."

"Don't tell me, I already said I agreed with you." He studied his friend from the corner of his eye, noticed that he was still shaking.

With anger? Or cold? I know I'm cold…

"Shall we go inside? It's rather cold out here."

"Stop patronizing me!" Remus burst out, with such violence that James actually shrank back from him. "I'm fine out here, I'm doing outstanding, and I DON'T WANT TO GO INSIDE BECAUSE IT'S COLD OUTSIDE!"

"Christ, Moony…"

"AND STOP CALLING ME MOONY!"

James blinked. He was growing angry himself, but squashed it firmly. James Potter hated being angry. It upset his equilibrium. 

"Fine," he said calmly. "You stay outside. Me, I'm going in. I'm freezing. I'll see you when you've regained your composure."

"My composure???!" Remus shrieked shrilly. His fists were raised in front of his face, as if he wanted to punch James, and the latter took a step back. The way Remus was now, one punch would most likely cost him his teeth.

"Remus…"

"You want me to regain my bloody composure? I'll show you what you can do with your composure!" And he hit with all his strength—not James, although he did fling up his hands to defend himself, but the Gryffindor stands. There was a boom like a cannon shot, and the splintering of wood, and then total silence. Remus stood still for a moment, breathing hard; then pulled his fist out of the wrist-deep hole, flexed his fingers. Apart from red knuckles and a bleeding gash on the back of his hand, he was unharmed.

He looked up at James, who was staring back with wide eyes, and the faintest of smiles curled the corners of his broad mouth.

"I think," he said, voice normal again, "that I just regained it." He pulled out his wand, muttered a reparo spell and then patted the unmarked wood. "What a bit of violence can't achieve."

"Right," James said, a trifle shakily. Remus smiled beatifically.

"Shall we go? It _is_ rather cold out here."

Next chapter: The Marauders go back to the Forest. Please give me some time for this chapter. I've been looking forward to writing this, and I don't want this chapter to be sloppy. And there is one person who reviewed, whose review I didn't get into my mailbox but only on the site, and I can't remember your name (my apologies)…you had another theory about Cynthia. And you, my friend, are right : )

MorganD, you'll be pleased to know (I hope) that I just found a new subject for another Marauder fanfic. Well, a James and Sirius fanfic, which probably won't have any slash. Or might have. But I don't think so. This fic will be called Sirius's Suicide Tour, and no, it won't have any character death : )


	28. VIRUS 28

Good afternoon, my friends! (well, for me it's afternoon). This chapter's finished on time, but only because a. it turns out I need more pages for the plot to unfold, and b. because I have a short holiday. I've been working for one week now, and it's incredibly tiring—even though I really like it! I'll try to have the next chapter finished by next week on tuesday, but I can't promise anything. Thanks for the reviews, again! I'll answer some questions or react to those I think need reacting to: Pie, you'll know next chapter. That's all I can say without spoiling the plot. 0, yes, I have parts of a Sirius/James story in my head, although I'm not sure it will be slash. I'm not much into J/S slash—the guy's got a girlfriend! But yes, I have an idea and I've already written about ten pages of it (sex, I'm afraid. Not J/S, just unhealthy hetero sex.) I don't know when it will be finished, or if I ever finish it. I'll try to write part one as soon as possible. It will be about Sirius trying to prove to his father that he is responsible enough to become an Auror—in his own, insane way. And yes, you spelled Netherlands correctly : ) That's where I come from. Sakura Blossom, glad you still like the fic : ) and also that you like Peter. He's supposed to be likable. After all, he's okay now. Hmmm. I've been thinking of what Voldemort might have said to him to make him turn sides…Lunard, and most of the others too: have you noticed that 'my Remus' isn't all that cute and sweet and calm as everybody thinks he is? He manipulates people all the time, and indeed, he has a serious problem when he gets angry. Oh, I want to write something that he really loses it and goes on a killing spree! Darn, I'm forced to write I don't know how many more Marauder fics…: ) Welcome back Alicorn! Just in time for this chapter, and the next. The next going to be my favourite (evil grin). But first, this one, I've been talking way too much! Enjoy!

28. Unleashing Moony

Remus refused to go and see Madam Pomfrey to have his hand treated. Even though his knuckles swelled to the size of marbles, he maintained that he didn't feel a thing, wrapped a length of bandages around his hand and pretended that everything was fine. He did have a talk with Sirius, however, in which he stated in no unclear terms that Sirius was to keep Cynthia far away from him, because if she mentioned his lycanthropy one more time, he would make sure that she never talked again.

"And I do mean that," he added calmly, as Sirius stared at him as if he'd grown horns. "Keep her away from me."

"But…she's only trying to be helpful!"

"Keep her away from me, Sirius!"

"Remus, you're being…"

"No. Keep. Her. Away. From. Me. I'm not saying that you should leave her or anything, hell, as far as I'm concerned you marry her and have a dozen children. Just keep her away from me, that's all."

Sirius looked at the white bandage around his right hand, and at Remus's tight thin face with the dangerously flashing eyes, and nodded.

"Okay. Sure."

"Thank you." He smiled tentatively. "So. Which route will we take tomorrow?"

That night, the Marauders gathered around the hearth, like they always did around this time of the month. They waited until the common room was deserted, took out their books and the Marauder map and whispered about the ways of the Forest. This time, Peter stayed with them, even though it was almost half past ten, and tomorrow would be another long, long day.

"You said that the lake's overflown?" Remus asked, tapping the small blue spot in the middle of the Forest on the Map. James nodded.

"Hagrid told me."

"Hagrid! I haven't even sent him a message that I'm better!" Peter smiled.

"We did, already. He never believed you had the virus."

"Typically Hagrid. How're the animals doing? I've been so busy these days, I didn't even think about them."

Sirius made a soft sound, sat up and dug into his pocket.

"I think I still got his letter…yes, here it is. I got it this morning. Or rather, I had to fight for my life to get it this morning. My fingers still hurt. Here, read it yourself."

Remus held out his hand (Lily had repaired most of the damage, and his knuckles now were a lovely purple-blue colour), held the letter a bit closer to the fire and read:

Peter, Sirius, and the rest of the Marauders,

So glad to hear Remus is doing fine. I hope to see all of you soon. Haven't got much time to write, because I have to set out my Trotters and three unicorns. Have to be careful though, since the lake has flooded and half of the paths have changed to mud. All of the animals are on the mend now; soon, I'll take all of them back. As soon as I have, I'll ask you over for a cup of tea. I'll see you soon!

Hagrid.

A thick smudge of blood ran all the way from Hagrid's signature to the edge of the page, and he winced in sympathy.

"Render in a bad mood, Sirius?"

"Not half as bad as you." Sirius shot back, but he smiled to take the sting out of his words. Remus raised his eyebrows.

"The only one I hurt was myself, Padfoot. Not you. And I had a perfectly good reason to feel off-ish." Sirius waved his hands.

"I know, I know. I was only joking. I mean, everybody knows you're only speaking metaphorically when you say you'll cut the tongue out of my girlfriend's mouth if you see her again." The smile turned a little cruel. Sirius was not half as amused as he appeared to be. Remus, however shrugged.

"Don't make it personal, Sirius. You love her. I don't. You're her boyfriend. I'm not. No trouble at all." Sirius opened his mouth, but James knocked on the ground and silenced him.

"Can we please talk about the Forest, and not about Remus's private quarrel with Cynthia? Women! Nothing but trouble!"

"We can take the leftmost path past the anthill towards the lake," Peter murmured, following the scraggly lines with his finger. "Although I'll make much of the journey on your head, if you don't mind, Prongs. If it's really that muddy I don't want to walk. You'd think I'd taken a mud bath the last time it'd rained so badly." James nodded.

"Sure. No problem." He studied the lines with a practiced eye. "But I wouldn't take the left path. Didn't we take that one three months ago? It led to some sort of cave entrance with a lot of cobwebs. If I remember correctly we didn't like it much."

"You might be right…but this path," Peter tapped the Map again, "leads to a wall of thorns." Remus nodded.

"I remember that one," he said. "Madam Pomfrey asked me a lot of unpleasant questions as to why I was so scratched and bloody. I had to file my nails to give a decent explanation." Sirius, swallowing his anger towards Remus, bowed over the Map as well.

"Have we ever taken this path?"

"I don't think so. Or yes, we started out on it, but then we went to the right here, on this crossing, because it was so boring."

"We can take that one, then. It seems to lead directly to the lake."

"Alright. Who'll take the Map with him? You, Peter?" His friend nodded.

"Okay."

"Good." James looked around. "And now I don't want to hear another threat against Cynthia from you, nor biting remarks against Remus from you. We haven't had a decent adventure for two months, and I won't have you two spoil it with your antipathies."

"I'm not…" Remus started.

"I wasn't…" Sirius said, but James shushed them with a gesture.

"Tut! No more hostility. You almost died, and I don't want to be angry with you. And as long as Sirius keeps her away from you, I don't want to hear you speak another word about Cynthia. Got it?" He wagged his finger in front of Remus's long nose, effectively keeping him from losing his temper again. In the end, Remus laughed.

"Fine! Yes sir. I'll be civil."

"Good!" He turned to Sirius, who smirked.

"You don't need to preach to me, mate. Like you said, you almost died. I'm way too glad to have you back and bitching."

"I don't bitch!"

"But," Sirius went on unperturbedly, "I'll still kick your skinny arse if you lift a finger against Cynthia." James sighed.

"Hello, Padfoot? Did you hear a thing of what I just said?" But Remus, in his turn, lifted his hands in a gesture of submission.

"It's alright, James. Sirius. I'll take it back. I won't cut out her tongue if she mentions my condition again. I'll simply…um…square my jaws, turn around and bang my head against the nearest wall until I've regained my composure. How's that sound?" Sirius grinned.

"Much better. As long as you don't cause the castle to collapse."

"Great," Peter said. "Now that the peace and the path are established, can we finally go to bed? I have a test tomorrow morning, and I need my beauty sleep." He patted his smooth round cheek. "I feel a wrinkle coming up." 

"God forbid!" James exclaimed. He rolled up the map and handed it to Peter. "Here, take good care of it. Good night."

A few minutes later they were all in bed. In the shimmery dark he gazed around and saw three other faces turned towards the window, looking at the vague round outline of the moon through the curtains.

"Whoooooo…" Sirius howled softly, and they all chuckled.

"Shut up," Remus said gently, "and go to sleep. You'll need it."

"Yes Remus."

"Good boy. Night."

"Night."

The room became silent. Four Marauders closed their eyes and dreamed about the Forbidden Forest until they fell asleep.

*

Madam Pomfrey was still angry; he could smell it. And even if he wouldn't have been able to smell it, he would have noticed it in her speech, her movement.

"It's a very cold night," she said, as he sat down on his cot in the Shrieking Shack. "Very cold indeed. It might freeze."

"I'm p-perfectly c-comfortable," Remus returned, trying to keep his teeth from chattering and failing. She shrugged.

"It's on your own head if you catch a cold." But she did not ask him to go back to the castle, she didn't force him to take a potion, and she did not tether him. What she did do, was give him another blanket, heat-charmed, and a pair of woollen socks.

"Thank you," Remus said, feeling ashamed.

I should've known she wouldn't let me down. When am I finally going to trust people? I shouldn't have barked at Cynthia either. She was right. It is a godawfully cold night. 

But now, it was too late to pull back—besides, he didn't want to pull back. He wanted to go into the Forest so badly his whole body was aching with it, although that also might be the first shivers of the Change. He wished Madam Pomfrey would go, so James, Sirius and Peter could come in. But she was still standing in the door opening, regarding him with a mixture of exasperation and amusement, as he sat shivering on his bed, trying to stare her down.

"You're a terribly stubborn young man, aren't you?" she finally remarked. "Resolved not to listen to reason." He nodded.

"Stone deaf, me. To reason. But grateful for the blanket anyway." A small smile curved her mouth.

"Well, you'll need it. And you will get a full goblet of Pepper-up tomorrow morning, if only to satisfy my own sense of justice." Remus winced.

"A full goblet?"

"To the brim." She checked her watch. "Well, it's almost six. I'll leave you to your own thoughts. It should take about half an hour until you'll feel the moon, but until that time you can look forward to the Pepper-up tomorrow morning. Good night."

"Good night." She turned around, then hesitated.

"You are warm enough, are you? I can get you another blanket…" Remus grinned widely. If he had been more inclined to use physical contact, he would have hugged the medical witch.

"I'm fine, thank you. This? Nerves, that's all. I'm always shaky before I Change. But thanks for asking."

"Good. Then I'll see you early next morning. Good luck." And now she did leave, and ten minutes later, the rest of the Marauders crept inside.

"Isn't she an angel?" Sirius asked with only a little bit of sarcasm in his voice. "All rough exterior, mushy soft heart." He looked at Remus, who was quivering so hard the whole bed was shaking with him. "Although she did have a point. It isn't that cold, really."

"J-just nerves." Remus stuttered. "And ap-p-prehension. I really w-want to go outside!"

"Just a few more minutes, Moony," Peter said, glancing at his watch. "The moon's up and shining outside. You should start feeling nice and painful in about twenty minutes."

"Painful. Check." Remus muttered, and curled up a little further. He was naked beneath the heap of blankets Madam Pomfrey had spread out over him; he didn't want to waste any time ripping his clothes off when he was Changed. Already his skin had grown intolerably sensitive, and the blankets chafed his back and arms. In a few minutes they would become too painful, and he would throw them off, and then….

He shivered. In the back of his head, the presence he called Moony was gathering strength and gaining eyes and senses. The world changed, subtly, colours (as far as they were visible in the dim light of the shack) dimming, his perspective tilting a little. The scents of his friends became a hundred times stronger, first pleasantly (warm, comforting and familiar scents of soap, sweat, ink and simply boy), then gradually growing intrusive, threatening. He bit his lip as a ripple passed along his bones, but kept quiet. This was only the beginning. He had a few more minutes before the rest of the Marauders should get out.

"I only hope you're strong enough," James suddenly said.

"What…do you mean?" The quivering had stopped. The pain had not. James eyed him worriedly.

"Are you okay? Is it starting?" Remus shook his head.

"Not…just yet. What d'you mean with me…being strong enough?"

"Well, to turn into a wolf and run all night. I mean, if you pass out suddenly…"

"I won't. And if I do…just take me back."

"But what if…" He stopped as Remus doubled up. "Okay, never mind. I think we should leave."

"Wait!" a thin hand closed around his wrist. He tried to pull himself loose, alarmed, but although the eyes staring up at him were dilated with pain, they were still very human—human and terrified. "Wait. You will let me out, won't you? You won't leave me in here, all by myself, right? I don't w-want to be alone…with him. Not now. Not now! He's furious!"

Sirius placed both hands on his shoulders, released him as the boy hissed in pain.

"Relax, Moony. We'll let you out as soon as you've Changed. Don't worry. Now let stop clinging to James and start Changing already! We're looking forward to this just as much as you do."

Remus released James's wrist.

"Okay." He crossed his arms over his chest, dug his fingers into his shoulders. "Okay." And then he doubled over again as another spasm of pain ran through his body, and ten thin trickles of blood ran down his arms. "Okay…"

"We'll be waiting outside," Peter said hastily. "Let's go."

"Right…" Remus gasped. "Go. GO !"

Peter ducked into the passage, James and Sirius followed quickly. Through the increasing agony of his change, Remus smiled with twisted lips.

"Hello, Moony. Welcome back…"

The next moment Remus was gone, and the wolf took over.

Prongs and Padfoot waited just out of reach of the Whomping Willow, peering into the darkness of the tree's roots to see if they could see Wormtail's tiny body. It was too dark, however; they saw nothing but shadows. But Remus had stopped screaming almost a minute ago, so he should be on his way to the entrance by now.

I hope he's alright, James thought inside Prongs's body. I didn't like the way he looked. He's never been so frightened before. He really thought we'd leave him there. And what did he mean 'he's furious'? 

Beside him, Padfoot made a soft sound.

He's coming.

He could feel it himself too. Or rather, the stag could feel it. Odd, how certain feelings came with a body, and not with the mind. Even though he could think perfectly fine, he couldn't help reacting skittishly to Padfoot's presence. The dog's scent made him feel uneasy, even though he knew it was Sirius, and Sirius would never bite him.

Moony, however, is quite another matter…

Unconsciously, he took a step back as running paws made the ground tremble slightly and the scent of wolf drifted into his direction.

Knock it off, Prongs. He won't hurt you—and if he does, I'll just kick him. Stags cannot smile, but James smiled inside himself, then ducked his head as a small body flitted through the grass. It launched itself from the ground and landed neatly between his antlers. Three seconds later, a large wolf scrabbled from the hole between the roots and threw itself at Padfoot, yipping joyously. 

Hey! Sirius cried, which transformed into a surprised "wheep!" in his canine throat. But Moony only wanted to play. It rolled over with him a few times, nipped playfully at his throat, then jumped to its feet and commenced to run circles around Prongs, yipping all the time and wagging its tail so furiously he almost fell over with the force of it.

Well, Peter thought grinning as he watched from his high perch, at least he's happy to be out.

The wolf was about as big as Sirius's animagus form, but much sleeker. The effects of Remus's disease were clear to see: the paws were long and thin, the wolf's belly sloped up sharply from the curve of its ribcage, and the ribs itself were easily discernible. Its movements were gangly; sometimes it seemed to lose its balance, especially while running around like an idiot, but the wolf didn't seem to mind. It was incredibly happy to be out.

Prongs rolled its big eyes up as a tiny fist tapped on its forehead.

Thataway! Wormtail pointed towards the Forest. 

Right. Prongs nodded—almost flinging the rat off his head. Padfoot let out a bark that was remarkably like laughter, nudged the wolf in the side and set off towards the Forest.

Race you?

The wolf, very capable of grinning, did so, and bounded away, Padfoot close on its heels. James sighed.

This may be an exhausting night…

They took the middle path, as decided the previous day, having to make only a few detours to pull Moony back from lures such as puddles, ponds, an obviously recuperating pair of unicorns, a wood nymph and a swarm of pixies. Then, of course, there were the ordinary animals a wolf liked to chase, like squirrels, rabbits and rats—but Moony was perfectly content to catch those while running along with its friends.

I really wish he wouldn't do that. Peter thought one time, as the wolf came jumping back on the path with the bloodied tail of a squirrel hanging from the corner of its mouth, like some sort of limp cigar. It's kinda off-putting. But he had to laugh when the wolf courteously offered the tail to Padfoot. Probably as some peace sign; the dog had bitten him rather painfully when he trailed away too far. Padfoot accepted the tail, shook it a couple of times, then gave it back. Moony wagged its tail, obviously pleased.

Please don't do that again, Moony. Sirius coughed to get the hairs out of his throat. Padfoot didn't mind tasting blood, or biting furry things, but his human mind, however particular, wasn't all too happy about biting down on a severed squirrel's tail. But although he did not really like it, he wasn't averse to it either. It had been fun deciphering the wolf's manners. For Moony was a wolf, a full wolf, and only the presence of humans made him change into a bloodthirsty monster.

Remus said he could hardly remember his alter ego's feelings and instincts (although Sirius begged to differ. Remus, when drunk, angry or sad, resembled the wolf much more closely than he'd like to think), so he had learned what he knew now during nights like these. In the beginning, he had blamed Remus for the wolf's actions. Once, Moony had bitten him so hard he'd bled (he still had the scars on one shoulder), and that had made him quite angry. He had saved his anger for the following morning—no sense in rebuking a wolf in dog language—but Remus hadn't even known what he was talking about. And when he showed the red marks, his friend had been terrified.

*

"I did that?" he had whispered. "Me?" His fear immediately brought out Sirius's better side, quenched his anger.

"It's nothing. Really."

"But…I thought I wouldn't bite you. Not when you were…transformed." And then, grabbing Sirius by the arms and dragging him to the door, "you have to go to Madam Pomfrey right away, right now, you hear? Maybe it isn't too late yet, maybe she can still stop it—when did I bite you? In the beginning of the evening? Or near morning?"

"Remus…"

"Why did you wait until I was out of the infirmary? You should've gone to see her right away! You…stop struggling!" He almost jerked Sirius's arm out of his socket, while Sirius, unable to halt him by simply resisting, had grabbed the door post and held on for dear life. 

"Sirius!"

"Would you stop tugging? You're almost breaking my arm!"

"Then come with me!" He pulled a little harder, but Sirius held on tightly and wouldn't budge. "Siriuuus!" He was close to tears, but at that moment James had reached him, and laid a calming hand on his shoulder.

"Calm down, Remus. He's okay."

"But I bit him! The infection…"

"Doesn't work on transformed animagi."

"How can you be so sure? He might be…"

"Five hundred years of research and fourteen books on werewolves and animagi made me feel sure," James said, smiling. "Animagi, when bitten by a werewolf, are immune to the infection. Trust me."

"Although I'd appreciate it if you didn't bite me again," Sirius said, covering the offending shoulder. "I mean, a psycho owl's nice, once in a while, but you're a bit big for love bites, Moony. And your teeth are terribly sharp."

"Could you please be a little more inconsiderate?" Peter's voice, silent until now, spoke up bitingly from his bed, and when Sirius turned around, he saw his friend watching him with true anger in his eyes. "I think you're not hurting him quite enough."

"I'm not…"

"He doesn't know what he does when he's a wolf," Peter interrupted him. "Do you, Remus?" Remus shook his head. He still looked desperately unhappy.

"Maybe…maybe you shouldn't let me out again." He said softly. "If I bite you again…it's too dangerous."

"Now wait a minute!" Sirius exclaimed, but the werewolf went on,

"I mean, I thought this was safe. That I wouldn't harm you while you were animals. But obviously, I was wrong. I did hurt you—and I might do worse in the future. Even if you can't get infected…" James nodded.

"We won't get infected. I'm a hundred percent sure."

"Even so…I can still kill you."

His words hung heavily in the air. He could feel them weighing him down, settling on his shoulders, seeping into his clothes and turning them to lead. 

            The other Marauders saw the depression growing in his eyes—eyes that had been more alive and cheerful for the past three months than in the four years before—and glared at Sirius, who was sensitive enough to feel guilty. He took a deep breath.

"Remus. Don't look like that. It was an accident, that's all."

Remus said nothing. He had been lit up like a Christmas tree these past few months, and now all the candles in his head went out, one by one.

"Look, it's okay. We'll be fine. We just have to get used to dealing with a wolf, that's all."

"I don't know what wolves do, or how to deal with them." Remus whispered. "I can't even remember what it's like to be a wolf. All I remember is that I was…" He stopped, but they all knew what he was going to say. All I remember is that I was happy.

Sirius took a step forward, deliberately invading Remus's private space, forcing him to look up at him (he had been a lot taller than Remus, then), and took the boy's limp hand in his own.

"Then I'll remember it for you. I'll study your ways, when you're a wolf." He cleared his throat, and said, "I, Sirius Black, also known as Padfoot, swear that I'll come to know Moony as well as I do Remus Lupin, fellow Marauder, and that no harm shall come to myself or any other Marauder. Um. Amen." He shook Remus's hand, then frowned. "Come on, Moony, shake. I feel like I'm holding hands with a girl."

Remus smiled.

"You swear?"

"I just did, didn't I?"

"How can you protect yourself from harm?" Sirius grinned, showing as many teeth as possible.

"I'll bite you back."

*

And that's what he had done: bite back. It had proved to be most efficient. The wolf, Sirius had found out, lived by a few easy standards. As long as something cowered, it could do with it what it wanted; when the something bit back, it allowed itself to be ruled. It was that easy. And in time, Sirius came to understand the language of submitting and threatening, of licks and nips, of scents and sounds. Padfoot was the only one who could really influence Moony: Prongs was large enough to subdue the wolf, but it didn't understand the canine mind, whereas the dog did. And Wormtail, well, to the wolf, Wormtail was nothing more than a creature that let it out when it was locked up; a rat whom it wasn't allowed to eat. Moony cared nothing for Wormtail. 

Sometimes, Sirius thought, speeding after the wolf once more as it darted into a patch of bushes, I wonder whether he cares for any one of us.

He gave a sharp bark.

Come on, Moony. Heel!

Somewhere in the bushes, something obligingly barked back before trotting even further away. Sirius barked louder and added a tone of threat. The rustling grew softer.

Damn it, come back! He's moving away. Moony!

He barked a few more times, growing increasingly angry and anxious.

Come back, you stupid fool! Come back!

But of course the wolf could not hear him, and even if it could, it did not return. Moony was gone, leaving nothing but a faint trail and a slightly easier to follow scent. Sirius sighed.

O great. Are these thorn bushes?

A small claw tugged at a pluck of hair and looking down, he saw Wormtail sitting between his forepaws. The rat drew letters in the ground.

Lost him?

He nodded. A large shape loomed over him, obstructing the light of the moon. Prongs. The stag's hoof wrote another crooked sentence.

Can you find him? Can I follow?

In reaction, Padfoot pointed his snout towards the bushes. Prongs sighed. Wrote:

OK. Let's go.

Halfway the bushes, the ground turned muddy. Wormtail, who had been running on the ground until now, climbed up one of Prongs's long legs and sat itself on its head, tail curled around the base of his antlers. With every step, the stag's hooves came free with a sopping sound, and Padfoot had begun to growl softly with annoyance. His feet and belly were spluttered with mud. High and dry on Prongs's head, Peter smiled. 

Great road this, Moony. We'll have to dessicato you before you go back into the Shack, or Madam Pomfrey'll smell something's amiss. Well, at least you're leaving nice, clear tracks.

Nice, clear tracks was all they found, even when they had fought their way through the bushes and came to a so far unexplored part of the northern path. Moony's pawmarks crossed it in a straight diagonal, and disappeared in the soggy grass on the other side. The wolf itself was nowhere in sight.

Great, Sirius growled. He's gone! Damn it all to hell! He barked again, but all he heard was the chirping of birds and the echo of his own voice. Where'd he go? This way, in any case. He trotted to the other side of the path. Thankfully, the trail did not stop there, even though it was less distinct. It went on to the north-west—towards the lake.

This is probably some wolfish idea of a prank. He's simply trying to beat us to the lake—if he remembered we're heading that way. But he probably remembered. He's a lot more human than he used to be.

Sirius took a chance (after carefully tasting the air for Moony's presence) and transformed back to his human form.

"He isn't here," he said quickly, as Prongs and Wormtail expressed shock. "I think he's gone to the lake. But we'd better find him back real quick—I'm not sure whether Hagrid's out tonight, and frankly, the way Moony's behaving I don't want him to be alone. Imagine we lose him completely and he falls asleep, and isn't in the Shack by morning." The two animals nodded gravely.

"Okay. Now, his scent's pretty clear, and I don't think I'll have any trouble finding him, but I'm going to run. If you can't keep up with me or loose me, just go on towards the lake and I'll meet you there. If I find him, I'll howl. Okay?"

Another nod.

"Good. Try to keep up with me." He transformed back, and, nose to the ground, began to run.

His maws became wet with mud and water, he snorted it out of his nose or licked it away, and kept following the trail. Moony had gone in a relatively straight line, not once straying from his self-appointed path. He was indeed heading straight for the lake, just not using the road.

Well, it isn't as if he has a good grip on solid reason right now, Sirius sighed, squashing through the mud. Behind him, he could hear Prongs slopping as well. With his narrow hooves he had even less grip than the dog.

Thank god he's…hey. What's that? That isn't Moony.

He was standing near a group of trees, almost completely shielded from the bright light of the moon. See, he did little. But smell, he did. And the scent that had reached him, originating some distance away from him, was familiar and sweet—but it wasn't Moony. It was a girl's scent, perfume and clean skin, mixed with the smell of old paper.

Cynthia? No, impossible!

Then two things hit him at once. One was a thought that made him start to run into her direction: She's a human! And Moony's out here!

The second was what made him stop in mid-step and growl a warning to his friends: another human scent. But this scent was male, and he did not know it, but it smelled terribly wrong and dangerous.

Cynthia!

Paying no more attention to Moony's tracks, Sirius Black, also known as Padfoot, began to sneak into the direction where both scents came from. A stag with a rat balancing on the top of its head, followed him.

Next chapter: all kinds of revelations and PAIN and LOSS for Sirius! Hurrah! Ahum. Never mind me.


	29. VIRUS 29

Okay, again I'm forced to cut this chapter in more pieces, because it's too large to post it as a whole and I need some days more to write the rest. Besides, I want to know what you think of it so far. See notes below : ) Now read, and please, please review!!!

29. Forest Meetings

Sirius did not know what to expect. Or maybe something inside of him did; his stomach had drawn up to a tight ball, and his heartbeat thudded in his chest. He felt nauseous and anxious instead of merely curious, as if…as if…

She might be hurt. She has no reason to be here—what if the attacker from Saint Mungo's finally caught up with her and took her here? Or worse, what if…He firmly squashed his thoughts. When it came to Cynthia, he didn't want to think about it. He didn't even want to admit that she was here!

            Therefore it almost came like a shock to him when he saw her as well as smelled her: a slender figure in a dark cloak, bright hair covered by the cowl. She walked on the path, a few yards away from where Sirius stood frozen against a tree trunk. Her steps were swift and nigh soundless; she was not running, but close to it. Every few seconds she would start at this sound or that, or a movement in the brush, and look about her, and once he saw her face, a pale oval in the stark moonlight. In that white visage her eyes were like holes, black and frightened. At that moment he almost left his hiding place, but the stag's muzzle pressed down on his back like a restraining hand, and he did not make a move. A few seconds later, she had disappeared around the bend of the road, through the thick trees standing on either way. Sirius forced the hair in his neck to lay down again; it was bristling with some vague kind of terror. The stag nudged him again, and he nodded to himself.

Come on Padfoot. You need to find out what she's doing in the Forest.

Even if… He shook the thoughts out of his head and silently padded after her cooling footsteps.

            When they came to the bend in the road, the other scent, the male scent, grew stronger, and again Sirius halted. 

Man, I really don't like this smell…He wished he could become human again; the scent made him uneasy—even more uneasy than he already felt. He wondered whether Prongs could feel it too, but when he looked up at the stag it only dipped its head in a gesture of impatience.

Get a move on, Padfoot! 

Right, Sirius thought, and moved on. Keeping to the shadows, the three transformed animagi crept slowly to the place where, beside scents, now soft voices could also be detected. One of the voices was male, the other feminine. Cynthia's. 

So at least she's still conscious! He didn't harm her.

They spoke a few short sentences—a greeting, Sirius thought. A greeting? So she's meeting someone here? But who…A terrible sense of wrong-ness curled through his guts, and suddenly he was very very sure that he didn't want to know what Cynthia was doing here. He halted once more, but a nudge in the back made him start and look back. This nudge hadn't felt like a nose pushing him; this had been a hand. James was standing behind him, James, not Prongs, Wormtail perched on his shoulder. The boy crouched next to the huge dog, whispered in one of the pointy ears,

"Is that Cynthia, or am I crazy?" Padfoot nodded. Of course Prongs wouldn't be as familiar with Cynthia's scent as he was. He was impressed that he had recognised her. "What on earth's she doing here?"

Hell, I don't know, James. I don't think I want to know.

But now it was too late to turn back. In the half-dark, he could see James's eyes draw to slits behind his glasses.

He suspects something. Hell, he was suspecting something as well himself.

James patted the dog on the back.

"Let's go and find out," he hissed. "This is wrong." And he tiptoed further, keeping close to the trees, making less noise than the small forest animals skittering away from him. Padfoot, heart heavy, followed him.

Last year, the Marauders had explored most of the pathways in the Forbidden Forrest during their monthly exploits. The lake was situated roughly in the middle of the Forest, with the paths leading around and to it like the web of a spider. Many of those paths were overgrown, now, and some had even completely disappeared. Even though the Marauders had never seen this part of the Forest (for some reason it didn't show on the Map), they did know where they were at this moment. South of the lake, close to one of those sudden openings in the Forest, where a small field of grass kept the trees at bay. It was to this open place that the voices led them. 

            They inched forwards, using the bushes for cover, the boy slinking on sneakers, the dog padding silently after him.

"…got it? Did you manage to bring it with you?" the male spoke.

They were close now, close enough to make out two cloaked figures a few steps away from them. James abruptly sank to the ground behind two trees joined at the trunk and brought down his hand on Padfoot's head to signal that they had reached the spot where he could hear what the two people were saying. He started as the dog disappeared and turned into Sirius—he can hear much better when he's in dog form. Why'd he transform back? Nevertheless he kept his mouth shut, intent on the two figures standing only a few meters away. And then he just listened, and tried to keep quiet.

"Yes, my lord. I've brought it with me." Cynthia said, and pulled a thick, rectangular package out of her cloak.

"It wasn't damaged, was it?" The male again. Like her, he was dressed in a thick black cloak with the cowl pulled down to cover his face. His voice was soft and melodious, with a hint of steel, an all-but-inaudible harshness behind the sibilants. It was the voice of a spokesman, or a teacher, but utterly without patience. The hand he stretched out now was without patience as well, and Cynthia hastened to place the packet in it.

"No, my lord. One of the corners's torn, but I think it…"

"And the translations?"

"Tucked in with the relevant chapter, my lord. Chapter seven."

"Good." The man said nothing for some seconds; he appeared to be studying her, or perhaps more, for Cynthia shivered visibly.

"My lord?"

"You do know what will happen to you if I find out that you tricked me, do you?" Cynthia's left hand flew to her right under arm—the arm that had been burned at the Hospital.

"I didn't trick you!" she cried, half defiantly, half frightened. "I wouldn't dare!"

"And rightly so," the man said with a chuckle in his voice. He tucked the package away in his own cloak. "After all, you have all to gain if you serve me well, and all to lose if you break your word."

"I don't break my word." Cynthia said curtly, then cowered beneath his stare. "Why don't you trust me, my lord?" she pleaded. "I've done everything you wanted me to. Everything…"

"Your virus failed. I heard someone invented a cure for it."

In the darkness, James's eyes grew the size of saucers.

What did he just say? Did I misunderstand what he said?

He almost screamed as a hand clenched around his arm, but of course it was only Sirius. Sirius, who was so pale he looked like he'd been kicked in the stomach. His face was still turned towards the two figures on the field, but as he listened, his body spasmed weakly, as if the words he heard were blows connecting with his vitals, and his fingers dug into James's bicep so hard they left bruises.

Cynthia ducked her head. 

"I know, my lord, and I'm sorry. It was a Slytherin boy. His name's Snape. Severus Snape. A sixth year." Contempt oozed from her voice as she said Snape's name, but the man brought one hand to his face in thought. His chin gleamed white in the moonlight.

"Severus Snape. Yes, I believe I've heard of him." The tone of his voice said that he was very certain that he'd heard about Snape, and also that he was infinitely pleased with him. Cynthia edged away a little. "Still, it was supposed to be incurable." 

"I did what I could, my lord."

One crushing blow to the kidneys.

"Ah well, I supposed it served its purpose. Even if it wasn't perfect. But then, you're still very young and untrained. Considering your lack of training, you did an excellent job."

"Thank you, my lord."

A solid kick to the liver. 

"After all, the virus was only a diversion. You are sure about chapter seven?"

"Yes, I am. My lord, we shouldn't stay here."

"Oh? Why ever not?"

"The werewolf …"

"What werewolf? The one who caught the virus? What's with him? I thought he died."

A square hit in the guts.

"He didn't, my lord." She hesitated for a second, then added, "Severus Snape saved his life."

"Did he now?" 

This time the tone of his voice told James that he was less than satisfied with Snape. But it hardly registered anymore. His mind was blank with shock. Sirius's fingers were crushing his arm, but he was concentrating on Cynthia and her dark master too hard to care.

Good god, it was her, it was her all along, it was **her**!

"Yes, my lord. But that's not…"

"You don't sound particularly regretful about this werewolf's recovery," the man interrupted her again, a hint of cruel amusement in his voice. "Surely you don't shrink back from a few casualties of war? An ambitious girl like you. Especially a werewolf…what's his name anyway? None of you seem to want to tell me." 

Cynthia nervously gazed around her, then took a step towards him. It obviously took a lot of courage.

"My lord, we can't stay here. You see, the werewolf's been seen here, in the Forest. I wanted to send you a message, but…"

"Nonsense." the man said sharply. "Even if the old fool's taken on a wolfspawn pupil, he wouldn't let it roam about, and certainly not here, not if that thickwitted Hagrid still runs the place."

"It's happened before." He snorted.

"The more reason to make sure Dumbledore steps back and disappears from Hogwarts. First half bloods, now full mudbloods and even werewolves! The man belongs in Saint Mungo's, or Azkaban." 

"Still, my lord, we should…"

But suddenly his hand flashed to his hip, and one second before James knew that somehow, the man had seen him, the wand was pointed straight at his head and a spell hit him so hard it flung him away from the tree. The last thing he heard was Sirius's gasp of shock, then everything went black.

"Stupefy!"

Cynthia gave a strangled scream and let herself drop to the ground, while Sirius jumped up and pointed his own wand.

"Stupe—"

"Experliarmus." The man in black said lazily, and the wand flew out of his hand. The next moment, the man was standing in front of him, moving so swiftly it seemed he hadn't used his legs at all. Sirius balled his fists. He could see the contours of the man's face inside his hood, but although he had the vague idea that he had seen this face before, he could not remember where.

"Sirius!?" Cynthia gasped, and the man in the cloak smiled.

"You know this boy?" She kept silent, and he did not ask her again. Nor did he ask what Sirius was doing here. He walked past Sirius to where James lay on the ground, twitching slightly. James had always been rather resistant to stunning spells. As the man bowed over him to grab him by his collar, the boy's hand shot out, and although he did not hit flesh, he did knock the cowl from the man's head.

"Fool." The man said, and hit him in the face before he dragged him to his feet, but he made no move to conceal his face again. And as he fastened his eyes on Sirius, the latter could not suppress an exclamation of surprise as he finally recognised the man's features—features he'd seen on the front page of Witch Weekly and in the Daily Prophet, wearing exactly the same arrogant half-smile as they wore now.

"Voldemort!?"

The man raised one eyebrow.

"I take it, miss Catterwell, that you have kept your political preferences to yourself?" Cynthia remained silent. She had risen again, and was now standing close to Voldemort, her eyes large and dark in her white, shadowed face. She looked as if she were terrified, but Sirius was too furious to care. He was also too furious to notice that Voldemort stepped back the moment the words started to burst out of his mouth; all he saw was a haze of red, swirling fog, with his girlfriend's face in the middle.

"How…how…" he stuttered, rendered almost speechless with rage and disbelieve. "I trusted you!" Cynthia pulled her cape closer around her body.

"I know," she said sadly. "You never were to find out. I'm sorry. And I'm sorry about…about your friend. I didn't know he was a werewolf."

"If you're so sorry, why didn't you help Snape with the antidote?" James snarled, wiping blood from his mouth. She shook her head.

"Because I did not know that he was working on one. Snape," she pronounced his name with a moue of distaste," has got nothing to do with this."

"You're lying!" Sirius spat, "He's associated with him as well, just like you, you lying bitch!" 

"Is he really? How do you know?" From James's pocket came a high squeak, and he quickly thrust his hand inside to smother the sound. Cynthia looked at him oddly, then laughed mirthlessly. 

"You don't know anything but half-truths. And you don't understand the meaning of the facts you do know."

"I know you invented a disease that killed half the animals in the Forest," Sirius hissed. "I know you almost killed one of my best friends. But you're right about one thing. I don't understand. I…no matter how hard I try, I just can't understand why you did it!"

He cast her a pleading look, begging her to tell him that she had been forced, or threatened, and at the same time knowing that nothing had ever forced her—and nothing ever would. He could see that in the cold beauty of her face and in the self-awareness with which she combed a strand of hair out of her eyes. She still looked sorry and a little nervous, but her eyes and voice were steady as she said,

"It was a means to obtain a certain object. But most of all it was a test." James sneered.

"A test?!"

"Yes!" she suddenly shouted, "a test! To see whether I was worthy enough to join him. And I passed!" Sirius began to laugh, but it had nothing to do with humour.

"A test," he barked, "you created a killer virus just to show Voldemort…what? That you're smart enough? Cruel enough? Have you seen the effect it has on animals—hell, you saw Moony!"

"I told you I was sorry about that!" she yelled. "But I couldn't just stop it now, could I? I did what I could, but I'd devised that virus to withstand every cure, every antidote. I didn't think it'd be possible to find an antidote. And he lived, didn't he? So what on earth are you whining about!"

James wildly shook his head, unable to believe his ears.

"But…but why? Why did he want you to make this virus? And why the bloody hell did you do it for him? Hell, you'll go to Azkaban for this, if they don't have you kissed immediately."

Cynthia blanched, but did not lose her composure.

"You wouldn't understand," she said, almost bitterly. "You don't have ambitions."

"Like hell I haven't," James spat, "They just don't include murdering hundreds of magical creatures and endangering the whole wizarding community!"

"I never meant to endanger…!" Cynthia began, but she immediately fell silent as the tall, dark figure that had been standing behind her all this time took one step forwards. 

"Moony?" he asked languidly. "Is that the name of the werewolf? Moony? Or is it a nickname?"

Both boys were silent. He looked at Cynthia, who first looked away, then nodded.

"His name. Zaphier Moony. Everybody calls him Moony." Again the man's left eyebrow arched sharply upwards, and the faint, cruel smile that twisted his wide mouth gave Sirius the unpleasant idea that Voldemort knew that she was lying. But all he said was,

"I see," and turned to James. He could not have topped the boy by more than an inch or three, but somehow he appeared to be much taller; as he gazed up at him, it took all James's willpower not to avert his eyes and back down.

"I know who he is." The minister said, waving at Sirius. "Sirius. Now, I know a boy called 'Moony'. But I don't know who you are, or what you are doing here."

"Wouldn't you love to know." Sirius scorned, then yelped as the man gave him a casual punch in the mouth.

"Don't speak before you've been asked something." Voldemort said calmly, without even taking his eyes from James. "You'll get the chance to talk soon enough.

"Cynthia, make sure he keeps silent." Cynthia stepped closer to Sirius, but he looked at her with such loathing that she bit her lip and kept well away from him. Voldemort smiled.

"So," he said amiably. His eyes were blue, James noticed. The very dark sky blue of a frosty night. "Now do tell me, what were you two doing here, all on your own in the Forbidden Forest?"

James said nothing. 

"Who are you anyway? I don't think I've ever met you before. What's your name, boy?"

"'I hate your guts'," James said evenly. "But you can call me 'fuck you'."

The blue eyes flickered with amusement, and despite himself James edged away from him. There was something about Voldemort that creeped him out, although he couldn't exactly say what.

"Resolved to make everything as hard as possible on yourself?" the man asked, twirling his wand between his fingers. His hands were white and slender. "Really, it's in your best interest to tell me the truth. If you think I have any qualms about cursing you and then erasing your memory just because you're on Hogwarts grounds you're mistaken. This piece of the Forest doesn't belong to Hogwarts. It's no-man's land. And if you think that the fact that you're only a boy will stop me, you're mistaken as well."

"If you think that you can threaten me, you're mistaken too," James said bravely, pointing his chin in the air. "You wouldn't dare hexing us this close to Dumbledore and risk an investigation."

"No?" Voldemort asked, smiling. He pointed his wand straight between James's eyes. "And what makes you think so?"

Sirius made a move to speak, but Cynthia pressed her wand against his neck.

"Don't make me," she said, and something in her voice told him that she was serious. He balled his fists, itching for his own wand, but it lay a few meters away from him on the ground. Even if he managed to best Cynthia physically, he was no match for her magically. Sirius gritted his teeth and did nothing.

"You're bluffing," James whispered. "You wouldn't…"

"What's your name, boy?"

Silence. Voldemort smiled like a snake.

"Imperius."

"No!" Sirius screamed when James crumpled to the ground, eyes glassy behind his spectacles, but Cynthia jabbed her wand into his larynx with a short incantation and he fell to the ground as well, coughing. He felt as though he were suffocating; his throat closed up and he couldn't get enough air, blood pounded in his temples while he ripped at his collar, coughing, choking…

and then it stopped. He wheezed for air, one hand still gripping the neck of his robes and pulling it away from his neck. 

Cynthia…

She was looking down on him, face cold and impassive, and he looked away, to James, who was lying hunched over on his knees, panting.

"Why don't you tell me your name?" lord Voldemort suggested. "What's your name?"

"James." said James. "James P-…" He stopped, and his face twisted as if someone were torturing him.

"Go on," Voldemort urged. "James what?"

"James P-" again he fell silent, but his breathing became harsher and beads of sweat ran down his nose. Voldemort was watching him with growing interest.

"Keep talking, James. Tell me your name. I'll find out anyway, and you can't resist this curse." James said nothing and the minister frowned in concentration. The boy gave a soft cry, fingers flying to his temples in defence. 

"Come on, James. All I'm asking is your name."

"No!" James gasped. "No, you won't…know…my name! I won't…let…"

"Crucio." Voldemort lisped softly, and now he screamed out loud before he could clench his teeth together and swallow his agony.

"Bastard!" Sirius yelled, but again Cynthia raised her wand, and this time she didn't dispel her choking hex until black supernova's exploded in his vision.

"…never seen someone so good at resisting imperius," Voldemort's musical voice drifted into his ears, through the terrible sound of James's stifled whimpers and the roaring in his own head.

"I wonder if he's the one…it's less than a generation, but still, he's awfully strong…"

And then Cynthia's voice, brittle and tight, 

"Potter."

"What did you say?"

"Potter. His name's Potter. James Potter."

"Potter. Potter. No, I can't remember…wait. Yes, I think I might have met his father. And the other boy? This Sirius you seem so fond of? Or wait, maybe I should test his resistance too…"

"Black." she said quickly. "His name's Sirius Black." The minister laughed softly.

"Afraid I'll torture him? He won't remember a thing of it, don't worry.

"He's still holding on, isn't he?" This with a glance at James, whose lower lip was bleeding with the pressure of his teeth, but who still managed to return his gaze with a flaming one of his own.

"You can even hear me, can't you? Remarkable. Do you think you can take another pain curse, or will you finally tell me what you were doing here?"

James opened his mouth, but not a word came out, only the clouds of his breath as he panted for air.

"Mph. Finite incantatem." James slumped forwards with a sob. A small rat skittered away from him, towards the place where Sirius's wand had landed.

Good god, Peter. I'd forgotten all about him.

Sirius looked up to find himself face to face with Voldemort, who was regarding him expectantly.

I can't take that, he knew, not the cruciatus curse. Nor the imperius, for that matter. And frankly, he was too tired and hurt—both mentally and physically—to try and be heroic.

"We were exploring," he said, which was actually not so far away from the truth. "We wanted to see the lake." 

The man arched his eyebrows, both this time.

"You simply happened to stumble across out little meeting?" he said incredulously. Sirius nodded.

"Yeah. Sounds stupid, I know. Hell, it probably was your evil vibes alerting us. We…"

With a wild screech, a rather corpulent brown rat came running back into the clearing.

"Eeeep Eeeep EEEEEeeee!" the rat screamed, and as one, James and Sirius looked at each other.

Moony. Moony's here.

One thing. I will not let Moony eat Cynthia. I simply won't. but I'm not sure yet about what I'll let happen to her. I might kill her. I might not. Mind, you still don't know WHY she did this all. The next two or three chapters will tell you that : ) But I'm keeping an open ear for suggestions….By the bye…satisfied, Pie, Nemesister Raptor? Evil grin. A.Dee, Sirius is not dumb but wilfully blind. Love does that to you, sometimes. What does two-timing mean, for that matter? I don't know the expression. MorganD, as for mood-swings…imagine serving the dark lord and falling in love with a person who tells you straight to your face that he hates the man on sight, and then having a terrible secret no one should know, and a horny teenage boy trying to have sex with you all the time…wouldn't it make you behave erratically too? : ) As for James and Sirius moments, they will come. I see James and Sirius as best friends, and the rest of the Marauders kind of pivoting around James. Sirius has some special kind of bond with Remus because of the Padfoot Moony thing, and Peter simply adores James because he is (CHORUS) Uncomplicatedly and genuinely NICE. I simply didn't have the time to write more intimate pieces with James and Sirius (same for Valentine, although I might give him some bad news too). But the last chapter will hold such a scene. As for the Marauders loving Sirius despite the bastard he is? He's COOL : ) Lunard, thanks for the constructive comments! : )


	30. VIRUS 30 Cry Wolf

Sigh. I still need at least another chapter, maybe two. So, this chapter is only about getting out of the Forest and such. Lunard, thanks for your long review! I know stags can smell, Prongs does so the previous chapter. But dogs and wolves, I think, can make more distinction. Hm. Most of you want Cynthia dead. Don't you wonder why and how? She protected Remus and Sirius, you know…anyway, won't kill her yet. Maybe later. Ciria, the kidneys and liver thing is Cynthia's words hitting Sirius. He feels it that way. Voldie is about 35, I think. Sakura blossom…calm down, love : ) You weren't the only one and I'm sure she'll pay. Alicorn, I know I torture my characters a lot. But Voldie has a reason why he curses James. You'll find out why next chapter. I get the two-timing thing, A.Dee. And I won't have Moony eat her, Blank, because I want Remus sane and happy, not suicidal with guilt. Besides, in my version of HP world, werewolves that kill get shot. I don't want him shot—although…Sara, welcome and thanks for your review! I'm almost finished with the story, so you cut in just in time!

30. Cry wolf

As one, James and Sirius looked at each other.

Moony. Moony's here.

"What is wrong with that rat?" Voldemort snapped, kicking out at Wormtail without hitting him. The rat ignored him, shot back towards the direction it had come from—back, Sirius hoped, to his wand.

Need my wand to transform. Need my wand to survive, damn it!

He looked around, but did not see anything—but if Wormtail had smelled Moony, he was sure the wolf was close by.

"You," James said with a blood-tinted sneer, "are so fucked, minister Voldemort." He wiped his mouth with a quivering hand, managing to look genuinely amused even though he was still shaking with the dispelled curses. Voldemort frowned, but didn't curse him again, and even let him get up, in which he succeeded with Sirius's help.

"What is that rat? Is it yours?" Again, James smiled dangerously.

"Something like that." He had completely changed from the easy, phlegmatic boy Sirius knew, facing Lord Voldemort with a courage that was nothing short of suicidal. And he seemed to be enjoying it too, in a wild, desperate kind of way. "You could say it's a friend of mine. And you know, you're going to meet another one real soon."

"What…" the man began, but then Cynthia gave a piercing shriek.

"THE WEREWOLF!"

A sleek, grey wolf-shaped monster bounded into the clearing, at the same moment as the rat did, hackles raised, teeth bared, eyes crazed with the insane lust to kill, kill, kill, and even Sirius, who had seen most of the worse parts of both Remus and Moony, took a reflexive step back. But then he firmly scraped his wits together.

Voldemort and Cynthia were staring at Moony, approaching them with a toothy grin on its snout, the first with disbelieve but quickly recovering, the second with gibbering terror. Sirius's eyes shot to James, pressed against the two-trunked tree, face parch white but set with determination. James wasn't about to leave without a heroic battle.

But he can't fight, Sirius thought, not now, and he can't sprint fast enough if it comes to a chase. And I can't let Voldemort kill Moony. 

In a split second, he had taken his decision. He gave James a shove and shouted,

"Now! Run!", launching himself at Voldemort at the same time. He hit him in the side, causing him to stagger and miss Moony with his spells. "Run, James, go on and run!" 

For one second he thought that James would refuse, would not let him sacrifice himself—but then he gave a short nod, scooped Peter up from the ground and ran. Voldemort whipped around, snarling, "Here, you bloody school boy…", already pointing his wand as he pushed Sirius away from him, but Cynthia hauled his arm, screaming, 

"No my lord! Leave him, leave him! The wolf!"

He ripped free of her, almost throwing her out of the way.

"Stay out of it! I'll deal with the wolf." Turning around, he aimed at Moony's crouched figure.

"Avada…"

"No you won't!" Sirius shrieked, yanking on the man's cloak. "Run, Moony, run!"

            But the wolf only growled harder. And as Voldemort backhanded Sirius across the face, sent him sprawling into the dead leaves it made a sound that was part bark, part howl, and jumped. Its thin, huge body gleamed silver and black in the dappled moonlight, the very length and height of that leap seeming to cast him in slow motion, and Sirius had about three seconds to think

God Moony be careful, be careful!

before the wolf landed; not where Voldemort was standing now, but a few meters away.

"Sirius…My lord please!" Cynthia wailed, torn between terror and loyalty. She had her wand drawn, but it was shaking as she pointed it at the wolf. She very clearly knew that if the wolf decided to attack her, there was damn little change of her casting a spell before she fell.

And she knew the boy that was the alter ego of the wolf. She knew Remus, and she hadn't wanted him to die.

"Let's go! Please!"

Sirius, in the meantime, had clambered to his feet again, keeping his eyes on both Moony and Voldemort. Inching away, slowly, in the direction of the castle. Because he knew that, whatever happened, he wasn't out of danger yet.

Voldemort might harm him.

But the wolf would kill him, unless he transformed into an animal. But if Voldemort saw him change…Can't have that. He mustn't know. Certainly not now he knows my face. And, he realised, Peter has my wand…I hope. So he backed up, step by tiny step, hoping that neither threat, man or wolf, would notice.

            As it was, they were still standing there, somehow stalemated by each other's glare; the wolf growling deep in its throat, the man making a sound that was softer, but much the same. Whatever he was, Sirius had to admit that Voldemort had guts, lots of them.

"My lord…" With a jerk, the wolf's head turned to Cynthia, and his paws tensed, claws raking the earth.

Cynthia!!!!

"GO!" Voldemort screamed, just as Moony's paws left the ground, "Run, you stupid girl!" and immediately after that,

"Stupefy!"

The wolf yelped

MOONY! Sirius screamed soundlessly

fell to the ground, but scrabbled up immediately. However, those few seconds had been enough. Voldemort snapped his wand and was gone.

Disapparated…? So you can apparate in here.

And as he looked at the huge wolf coming shakily to his feet, shaking its head as if to clear away some pain or befuddlement, Sirius thought, How incredibly shitty that I can't apparate yet.

Slowly, slowly and oh so silently he took another step backwards. And another one. Three steps, for steps, almost out of sight…

GRRRRRrrrrrrrrrrrrr….

O fuck!

Sirius spun around and fled. The wolf made that sound again, a noise no natural creature could produce. Even as he crashed through the undergrowth, Sirius could hear the beast run after him, great paws pounding on the moist earth, crushing the leaves.

Please, Moony, give me some time to transform, please, please, only a few seconds to…

And then his foot snagged in a surfacing root and he fell, hard. In mid-air he twisted but all he achieved was that his knee exploded with pain, and he still fell and landed on the ground with a thud that drove all the air from his lungs. He slammed down, mouth open in a silent scream. Before he tried to get up, he already knew that he wouldn't make it. Some small part of his mind was counting, even as the rest was gibbering with panic.

One second down.

Get up, get up!—god, my knee!

Two seconds down, and the cracking of twigs coming closer.

My knee…

Three seconds.

He managed to distract his foot from the root, but even that movement made him whimper with pain.

Broken? Oh my god I have to transform I have to do it NOW, wand or not I have to do it RIGHT NOW…

Four seconds. The wolf leapt out of the bushes, all its hideous teeth bared in a snarl that promised violence and agony and death.

Have to…**now**!

He transformed, channelling his magical power through his sheer despair instead of his wand, transformed a split second before the beast had reached him. Screamed as his wrenched knee transformed into a dog's knee, tearing muscles and tissues as it changed. For one moment, the pain of his knee was so bad he forgot all about Moony and the danger he imposed, lay on his back keening, his hands—now dog's paws—clenched on his chest and sound leg kicking feebly in order to be able to stand it. Tears of pain, started in human eyes, ran down his hairy muzzle as he opened his eyes.

And stared straight into the wolf's face. It's eyes were round, like ordinary wolf-eyes, but their colour was grey, with a ring of brown, just like Remus's. There was no warmth or recognition in these eyes, however, and at the moment they were narrowed to slits.

Moony. Please.

He was still growling. Padfoot kept as quiet as possible. A bit of the fear had disappeared when he transformed—human fear. A dog felt differently than a man—and the fear he felt now he showed as submission: belly and neck exposed, tongue lolling out.

Okay, you're the boss.

He winced as sharp-toothed jaws clenched around his neck

Do I still smell like a human?

but forced himself to remain still and not make a sound. After a while, the pressure on his larynx abated, then went away. He dared to look again, and almost yelped as a hot tongue lapped his eye.

Or the tears…

The other eye got a lick as well, then the wolf moved over to his snout. Lick, lick, continuing to jaws and neck, marking Padfoot with his own scent. A scent that, Padfoot thought hazily, was pleasant enough for a dog. Healthy, well-fed (on squirrel, if he remembered correctly) wolf, with just a hint of fresh animal blood. He lay very still, letting himself get washed, until the wolf, finally satisfied, nudged him with a persistent nose and all but rolled him onto his side. A brief flash of pain shot through his knee, but he wasn't about to let a bit of pain thwart his chances. He just bit his teeth together and rolled.

The wolf gave a short snort, obviously pleased with the arrangement, turned a few circles and then curled up next to him, chest resting on Padfoot's paws, his head coming to rest upon the dog's shoulder.

Excuse me Moony…? 

Moony exhaled once, deeply, and closed his eyes.

Er, Moony?

The dog moved his head, gazing around, but a warning 'Rrrrr,' from the wolf made him put it down immediately.

Padfoot sighed.

Great. I've just been promoted to werewolf bed.

*

He did not know how long he lay there. Time was unimportant, both to Padfoot and Sirius. The dog had little knowledge of time, and Sirius, well, his mind was in too much of a turmoil to notice the passing of time.

Cynthia. He kept thinking, with a terrible, empty feeling in his chest. Cynthia. Cynthia made the virus. But even as he tried to come to terms with that, to understand what she had done, he saw images of her—

Cynthia sitting on his lap in the billiard room in the Three Broomsticks.

Cynthia laughing.

Cynthia shouting at him and accusing him of being a bastard for forgetting to tell her about Remus's illness.

Cynthia cheering for her Team.

Cynthia's face, rotting away in front of his eyes.

Cynthia sleeping.

Cynthia smiling at him, her blue eyes glittering.

I don't believe it. He thought. I simply can't. There must be some kind of explanation. She cannot have betrayed us like that, not in this way!

Cynthia looking at him coldly, wand pointed at his Adam's apple.

Cynthia…

            He had always thought that metaphors of 'the breaking heart' had been rather stupid, but right now he believed he knew what the romantics had meant. It hurt. Much worse than that spell she had put on him. It actually hurt bad enough to cry for, and he might have cried if he had been in human shape. But dogs don't cry, so he did not cry but simply lay on the ground, motionless, staring blindly into the distance.

It took some time until he noticed that a small creature was sitting in front of him, waving its right forepaw in front of his eyes. Wormtail. Sirius blinked. His eyes were dry from staring so long.

"Peep?" the rat asked, and held up its left forepaw. Sirius's wand looked like a lance in Wormtail's claw. Padfoot gave a small shrug.

I'm kind of trapped beneath Moony here, mate. Can't move. Can't transform back.

But this time Moony didn't seem to notice that he moved, and he rolled a little bit further—he moved his knee and he fell back with a yelp.

Okay, my knee hurts more than my heart. What now?

And then Peter did the most courageous thing he had ever done (not counting that one time that he had been stoned out of his head and called Dorkham a sour old turtle to his face): he transformed, right beside Moony, pointed his wand and said,

"Fixato." Ropes of air wrapped around Moony's paws, snout and body, tying him up securely before he could even begin to move. But even after that, he didn't move apart from a small jerk and a sleepy whine.

"I think he's exhausted." Peter said, kneeling down next to him. He patted Padfoot's back.

"Are you okay? You can change back now. He won't be able to break free."

He helped Padfoot scramble out from beneath the wolf's heavy body by pushing it aside, then frowned as he noticed how badly the dog was limping.

"Got hurt?" Padfoot nodded.

"You don't want to transform here? I've got your wand right here with me." The dog shook its head. "Okay." He stood up.

"James, you can come out now. It's safe. Sirius's fine—at least, I hope so."

James stumbled out of the bushes and fell to his knees right in front of the huge dog.

"Sirius…God, I thought he'd killed you! We couldn't find you. Why didn't you give us some sign or something…?" He caressed Padfoot's head with a shaking hand. "Are you sure you're alright? What's wrong with your leg? Can I have a look it?" He reached out his hand, but at the faintest touch Padfoot growled and pulled away from him. 

"Leave it," Peter said. "He can transform when we're back at the castle. Speaking of which, we really need to get out of here before Voldemort or Cynthia finds us." He cast a searching glance over his fellow Marauders and sighed. Padfoot was hurt and would not transform. Moony was tied up and sleeping—thank goodness. James was tottering on his legs. He, Peter, was the only one who was unhurt and clear-minded, and therefore he was the person to take charge. He lightly touched Padfoot's ear.

"Can you walk?" A nod.

"You?" To James. His friend rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"Yeah. Can't carry Moony, though." Peter rolled his eyes.

"We're wizards, Prongs. Wizards don't carry people.

"Wingardium leviosa." Moony made a protesting sound as he was lifted into the air, then sighed deeply and went back to sleep. James smiled tiredly.

"Wow, Peter. I didn't know you could do that so well. And neither does Flitwick, I daresay." Peter shrugged. He pulled the Marauder's Map out of his pocket and handed it to James.

"I have many hidden qualities. Now let's go find the path and get out of here." James nodded and dragged himself to his feet once more.

"Alright. Let's go."

With the trussed up wolf floating out in front of them, the two boys and the dog headed back to the castle. 

*

James's watch told him that it was a quarter to three when they made it back to the Whomping Willow. When he looked at it the first time, he brought his wrist to his ear and listened to see whether the watch was still running. Surely the eternity they had spent in the Forest had been longer than a mere six and a half hours. They had played around for at least three or maybe even four hours before Moony ran away, so how could they have made it back in only two or three hours? He was so tired he did not even have the energy to help Peter carry the werewolf through the hidden passage, or check whether the boy performed all the necessary spells to keep their adventure a secret.

Untie him. Dessicato him. Hell, Peter know's what he's doing. He isn't stupid. He'll do what he has to do.

He gingerly touched his lower lip, which was still bleeding a little. Apart from the bone-deep exhaustion pulling at his bones, he did not feel any after effects from the two curses—which was a good thing. You can't remember pain when it's over, but his subconsciousness told him that it had been bad, very bad.

He used Unforgivable Curses. Imperius's illegal as hell, and so is Cruciatus. Hell, he was going to **kill** Moony! And Sirius…

The dog was standing beside him, left hind leg dangling awkwardly. He hoped the dog hadn't broken its bone, because then transforming back would surely cause massive damage. He started as Peter suddenly materialised in front of him, holding out the Invisibility cloak.

"Are you asleep, James? Come on. I'll lead."

"Is he safe?"

"Yes. I cleaned him up and put him on the bed. He's still sleeping, so come along. Quick!"

            Guiding his friends' stumbling steps, Peter hastily entered the castle through the underground passage, moved the statue and climbed the stairs to Gryffindor Tower. They had to carry Padfoot over the foot-high threshold, but finally they were all safely inside the Gryffindor common room, trailing mud and water on the carpet.

"I need a drink." James moaned, falling into one of the overstuffed chairs. "And a smoke, god, I need a cigarette."

"We need you to turn back into Sirius." Peter told the dog. Padfoot hung his ears. "It's either that or they'll find out that you're an animagus, Sirius, and then we're screwed! You have to change back!" Padfoot whined, but James nodded as well.

"He's right. You have to transform. I'm very sorry, but you simply have to. We can't take you to Madam Pomfrey this way."

They could both see the light husky eyes gaze at the ground, considering, then the dog nodded.

Right, Sirius thought. Here we go.

He started to transform (vaguely noticing that he didn't need a wand at all to do so), but just as his flesh began to change, there was some kind of tearing feeling and he stopped with a frightened squeak.

Shit! I can't do that!

James leaned forward, looking extremely worried.

"Sirius, you have to turn back!"

"If you can't do it on your own, we can help you, but you do have to transform." added Peter. 

I know! I know! Hell, of course I know. But I can't! 

He tried again, but his body simply refused to complete the transformation, and he gave up with a pained whine.

Can't do it.

"Okay," James said, and kneeled next to him. "Brace yourself. Peter?"

"I'm here."

James wrapped his arms firmly around the dog's neck and chest.

"Try not to bite me, okay? Ready?"

No. No. But go ahead anyway. He pressed his head against James's chest, took a deep breath and grit his teeth together.

"Go." James whispered, and the next moment Peter sent the transformation charm into the canine body he was holding, causing it to change back into that of a boy, and he had to hold on tight to stop Sirius from screaming out loud and jerking away. Fingers clawed at his arms and his shoulders, but he kept his friend pressed hard to his chest, muffling every sound, and only released him when Sirius was back completely and had stopped struggling.

"Are you okay?"

Sirius took a deep breath.

"Did I…bite you?"

"No."

"Same answer." He weakly pushed against James's chest. "Damn, that bloody hurt, man. I really hope I didn't…fuck, it hurts!" He wiped his face, scrubbing away what could be sweat or tears or both, and attempted to stand up. His face twisted with pain.

"Fuck."

"Should I go and get Lily? She might be able to help you."

"Do you want to get Lily involved in this? I mean…this is one shit load of trouble we're in, James. We can't keep this silent. Lord Voldemort, and those curses he did not you…and that bloody fucking bitch of a viralist!"

"Keep it down!" Peter hissed. "D'you want to wake the whole place up?"

With superhuman restrain, Sirius held his tongue. With James's and Peter's help he managed to get up and sink into a chair, but he couldn't let his leg hang over the edge on the floor, nor could he keep it stretched without wincing. James studied him, shaking his head.

"Well, it's either Madam Pomfrey or Lily, you know. We can't let you sit here like this. If you tore something…"

"I'm aware of that, James."

"I'll go and get Lil. Don't move."

"Ha ha." Sirius said, and hissed as he tried to find a more comfortable position.

For secrecy's sake, James wrapped himself in the Invisibility Cloak as he went up the stairs to the girls' dormitory. He had been here before, of course, both to bring Lily her Christmas and birthday presents and to make out with her when her room mates were out, but it felt a bit weird now. But then, this whole night felt weird, and even his own body felt as though it belonged to another person.

            He managed to open the door without making a sound, and since Lily slept in the bed closest to the door, he made it to her bed in only two safe steps.

"Lily."

"Hmmm…" Lily murmured without waking up, and despite himself and the whole situation he had to smile.

"You've got to wake up," he whispered, stroking her cheek. "We need you. Something's happened to Sirius."

"To Sirius?" she muttered sleepily. "Can't you…wait." She opened her eyes, finally awake. "James? Did something go wrong in the Forest? I can't see you."

"Ssshh!" James hissed, and pulled the cowl away from his face. "Yeah, something like that. Come down with me. We need you."

"Did he get hurt?" Lily whispered, sitting up and reaching for her nightgown. "What happened?"

"Just come with me, and I'll tell you. The others shouldn't know." She gave a brisk nod, never one to panic or hesitate.

"Okay."

Lily was a picture of bed-hair and sleepiness, but she blinked the sleep from her eyes as James pulled her towards the chair Sirius was lying in.

"Okay, so what happened? Did he fall? Moony didn't bite him, did he?"

"No, he didn't," James explained. "He fell. Twisted his knee. But…god, Lil, you wouldn't believe what's happened tonight!"

"First things first." The girl said, kneeling down next to Sirius. "Although I'm not certain I can help you. I only have first aid, you know, and if something's torn or broken or something I won't be able to heal it. Maybe Cynthia…"

"Cynthia!" Sirius barked, starting her. "That evil lying ho! That little bitch! I can't believe I didn't see what she was doing, I…I just can't believe it!"

"Cool down, Padfoot." James hushed, squeezing his shoulder. "As Lily said, first things first. Let's have a look at that leg of yours."

"I don't give a damn about my leg. She could've killed him, James! She would have killed him, if not for Snape. Snape!" He slammed his fist down on the arm of his chair, then stiffened with a grimace of pain.

"Knee, you said?" asked Lily, reaching for said joint. Her fingers met jeans, but underneath it she could feel flesh, swollen, hot flesh, and she pursed her mouth in an imitation of Madam Pomfrey. "Let's see whether we can pull up your trouser leg, shall we?" 

Sirius tried, and got stuck halfway his calf. 

"Damn," he said sarcastically. "Who could've thought I'd be hampered by today's fashion. Wide trousers wouldn't have caused any problems."

"Then take them off. I can't heal it if I can't see it. I'm no medical witch, you know." At the words 'medical witch' Sirius's hands balled to fists again.

"You know what, leave it. I don't care anyway. We haven't got time for this." He made to rise, then groaned as he moved his leg, and James pushed him back into the chair.

"Don't be in idiot. You can hardly walk, let alone do something heroically stupid."

"James. Your girlfriend just asked me to drop my pants."

"And I wonder whether I should help you," James said impatiently. "You're right, Sirius, we haven't got time for this. So hurry up. You're wearing knickers, aren't you? Well then, stop fussing. Get up."

"Here, you can lean on my shoulder," Peter said helpfully, and propped Sirius up as he stood tottering on his good leg.

Less than a minute later Sirius sat with his jeans around his ankles, looking hurt but mostly impatient as Lily and the two boys examined his knee. It was quite a sight, he had to confess. His knee had swollen to the size of a Bludger, round and puffy, without any visible knee cap, and had the colour of a rotting plum. Just looking at it made it hurt.

Well, at least they won't think I'm a sissy for not wanting to transform.

"Right," Lily began. "I think you should pull up your jeans and say hello to a certain Madam Pomfrey."

"Don't be modest, Lily. I'm sure you can handle it by yourself." Lily stared at him as if he'd grown a second head.

"Since when," she demanded, "do you have faith in me?" Sirius briefly sought for a witty reply; none forth coming, he decided to make do with the truth.

"Since I don't have the time nor the inclination to go to the infirmary."

"And why, pray tell, are you so short on time? What on earth happened anyway? All you say is that you have no time for proper healing. Why not? Why are you in such a hurry?" The three boys shared a glance, and nodded.

"We found out who made the virus," James started, finally. "Yes, it was made. Cynthia made it." Lily's eyes grew the size of snitches.

"What?" she squeaked, incredulously. "Cynthia?! But…but why?"

"Because she's in league with Voldemort." Sirius spat. "That freak show almost killed us. If not for Moony, I'd either be pushing up daisies or drooling beneath an oak tree, wondering who and where I was."

"But…" She shook her head as if to untangle the puzzle of their words. "Voldemort? Isn't he the minister of  Magical Segregation? What'd Voldemort want with the virus? And… Cynthia's in league with Voldemort? Where's she now? And where's Voldemort? I don't understand a bit of it!"

"We'll tell you later, okay?" Sirius leaned forward, shook her arm. "Just…see if you can heal my knee, okay? I can't go to the infirmary, firstly, because I can't walk, and secondly because… Look, I just can't, okay. Just try, see what you can do."

"We have to go and see Professor Dumbledore." Peter said. "We've got no other option. I'd rather not stand in front of him telling why we were in the Forest, but…we can't keep this to ourselves. It's too big. Cynthia killed all those animals, and she almost killed Remus—but she acted according to Voldemorts orders! He's a minister, for Christ's sake! He's as corrupt as hell, he's mental! We've GOT to go and tell Dumbledore."

"But first we've got to make up a good excuse." James said. "Not even Dumbledore will overlook us going into the Forest while it's strictly forbidden ground." Sirius nodded, then hissed as Lily pressed her wand against his knee.

"Hurts?"

"Yes, damn it, but keep going."

"Okay…um. Sanguine retracto." The swelling slunk a little, and the black faded to purple. "Raptus unito." Something in Sirius's knee gave an audible click, and he winced. Lily muttered a few other spells, but after the first two, nothing really happened. The bruises grew lighter, but remained, and although his knee was less puffy than before, it was still too swollen to look anywhere near normal.

"I'll just have to brace you," Lily said apologetically. "There's nothing else I can do." James shook his head.

"Better not, if you want to go and see Dumbledore. He'll expect us to run for him directly, not lay bandages and lick our wounds first."

"No. Good point." He pushed himself up on his elbows and pulled up his trousers, wincing as he did so. "It still hurts like hell. I must've pulled something."

"Can you walk, if I help you?"

"Uhuh. Why? You got a plan, 'cause I must say I can't think of anything right now."

"I do." James sat down on the arm of the chair. "And it's actually pretty logical. And Peter, you can stay here. You're the worst liar of all of us, but if my plan succeeds, no one will ever know that you were in the Forest with us." Peter nodded gratefully.

"Okay."

"You stay with Lily, okay, or even better, go back to bed. I don't know what will happen when we've told our story."

"Okay."

"Good. Listen. Sirius, everybody knows Cynthia's your girlfriend, even most of the teachers."

"Not anymore," Sirius growled.

"Okay, not anymore. But she used to be. And in the middle of the night you woke up because…hell, find a reason. You looked out of the window and saw her walking across the bridge in the direction of the Forbidden Forest. I haven't figured out how you could see it was her, but…"

"Boyfriends recognise girlfriends," Sirius said. "I'll think of something. So I went outside and followed her, and then we saw her and Voldemort. Perfect. We won't have to say a thing about Moony or Peter."

"But you need me with you."

"Why? I can leave you out as well."

"Because…" James shivered slightly. "Because he cast those curses on me. Because those are illegal curses. I don't know whether you can trace such a curse, but if Dumbledore can, we can prove that Voldemort's dangerous."

"Okay. You come with me. Let's go, then."

"Wait," Peter interrupted.

"What?"

"How do you explain your escape? Dumbledore's no fool. He'll ask."

"Yes. Yes, he will. Okay." James rubbed his hands through his hair, making it stick up wilder than ever. "How did we escape? Obviously, we can't tell him about Remus. He'd see the connection, and then we're screwed."

"A unicorn." Lily supplied.

"A unicorn?"

"Yeah, a unicorn. It…came out of nowhere, attacked him, I don't know. Distracted him so you could run away. If unicorns are half as intelligent as they're said to be, every unicorn in the Forest has reason enough to be pissed off at the one responsible for creating the virus."

"Right." Sirius hauled himself to his feet. "Let's go then. If he asks any other painful things, we'll think of something. Come on, James." He limped to the portrait. "Come on! We've got to tell Dumbledore so he can go and search for her!"

"I'm coming." He kissed Lily, leaning on her small figure for a few seconds before hiding his weakness with a pat on her backside.

"Go back to bed. Peter can tell you what happened. I'll be back as soon as I can, but…don't go looking for me. This's got to stay a secret. If we screw up, somehow, we're in really big trouble."

"I'll wait for you. Come along, Peter." She skipped up the stairs with Peter close behind her. James gave Sirius a nod, and the other opened the portrait door. They went through it, and closed it behind their backs. 

 "I left my Cloak in the common room." James realised halfway down the tower. Sirius only shook his head and kept limping downwards, clutching the railing for support.

"I hope no one finds it…"

"Why on earth…should anyone want to be up, apart from us stupid bloody idiots?" Sirius spat, then sucked in his breath as he jarred his wounded knee. "One would say we've had enough trouble this year, but noooo, we have to go outside in the middle of the night and find out that the girl I've been dating's some kind of power hungry murderer who's cooperating with a dark wizard who's probably running for prime minister right now. What a bloody mess!" 

He cursed as he bumped into the wall and hopped around on one foot for a moment, trying to regain his balance. James shook his head, grabbed him around the shoulders.

"Lean on me before you fall and really hurt yourself."

"I already am hurt!" his friend snarled, clinging to his arm. "You wouldn't believe how much my bloody knee hurts."

"Come on then."

He dragged Sirius along, one arm slung around his shoulder, the other hand clasping his friend's hand that was hanging over his neck. Every few minutes he stopped to give Sirius some time to regain his composure; his face was wet with sweat, lips clenched tightly together with pain. James himself could use those brief pauses as well. Ever since Voldemort cursed him, his legs felt as if they might give out any moment. But he was more worried about Sirius than about himself. The boy's whole body was tense, muscles quivering under the strain. He was afraid that, unless he found some way to calm down, Sirius would explode into a thousand pieces.

"Can you go on?" A nod.

"We can rest a bit longer, if you want."

"No. We've got to move on. She has to be caught before…oh damn it, James, I'm such an idiot!" His voice broke on the last word and James grimaced. He squeezed his friend's shoulders briefly.

"You couldn't have known. Hell, no one could've known."

"But that's the stupidest of all!" Sirius moaned. "I could! It's been so obvious, really. All this time…Don't you understand?

"She never cared about Remus—and Remus didn't like her from the start! I should've known that something was wrong with her, the moment Moony didn't like her."

"That doesn't make any sense. Remus hates Snape just as much as we do, and he turned out to be his saviour. Cynthia…"

"…liked Remus just as much as he liked her! But when I told her that he was ill, she almost went crazy. And of course she went crazy! Hell, she thought she'd made the perfect virus for magical creatures, and now one of the pupils had become ill. That was why she so desperately tried to heal him, because she didn't want to have manslaughter on her conscience. 

"And then that stupid incident with that Witch Weekly. It didn't have anything to do with puzzles, it was just a loyal subject mooning over the picture of her master!" He all but spat on the ground with disgust.

"And Hector! Hector the Slytherin. He must be just like her. Being worried about her, ha! "How's your arm, Cynthia!" He knew damned well that she'd gotten that Mark-thing on her arm. That's what it must be, you know. The Mark. Why else would she keep a small injury bandaged for so long? And that address—if she didn't want to know where he was going to live, why then look at the paper before burning it? Why not burn it straight away? There was no address on that piece of paper, I'm sure of it. It was a note, a time and a place she had to be at to meet with Voldemort! Hector was just the messenger." 

James nodded.

"And," he said slowly, "I think I finally understand why."

"Ah?"

"The Mungo library. The gibberish books. That attack—there was no attack on the hospital. I'm quite sure that Cynthia was the one who caused that explosion. She gave Voldemort one of those books, or a translation, right, I can't remember exactly. That package of hers. I'm sure that she stole one of those books from the hospital on his orders, under the cover of an explosion, and went into the Forest to take it to him."

"Which is why she didn't want Remus to be awake during his transformation." Sirius realised. "Because she was going to be in the Forest, and she knew that he sometimes got out."

"Yes. But that still doesn't explain why she did all of that. Love? I can't believe she'd do it for spite, I mean, she hated seeing all those animals die, didn't she? And she protected Remus when Voldemort asked who he was." 

Sirius said nothing. He was bitterly disillusioned. 

James tried to imagine how he would feel if Lily turned out to be a traitor to everything else he held dear—but couldn't. For once, he was unable to put himself into another person's place. Lily. Lily, the girl he wanted to marry, to protect, to live with for the rest of his life. 

To even think that she would do such a thing is impossible. Not Lily. It would almost be as if were dead…And then he thought of that one day, when Sirius had thought that Cynthia had died at the hospital, when he had been incapable of doing anything and his eyes were so scared and dark…Just like they are now. Good god, she IS dead to him now. 

"You know," Sirius said, as they came to the stairs to the floor where Dumbledore had his office and bedroom. James made an inquisitive noise.

"I really did love her." He smiled, a quivering, sad smile. "More than any of my other girlfriends. Isn't that ironic? I mean, I played around with a lot of girls, but now I finally find someone who I thought was…like me in all manners, like a mirror, or a soulmate, or all that other shit…she turns out to be a murderer. What does that make me?"

"It makes you a fool," James said, "for even thinking like this." He held out his hand to help his friend up the stairs.

"The only mistake you made, was falling in love with the wrong girl. You couldn't have known she'd be in league with Voldemort. Nobody couldn't known. Sirius…"

A single tear rolled down his friend's pale cheek.

"Sirius…" He hastily wiped the drop away.

"I'm fine. Hell no, I'm not, but that doesn't matter.

"How many steps more is it, James?" James looked up and away, giving Sirius the chance to scrub his eyes and any remaining tears away.

"About fifteen. Do you happen to know this week's password?" Sirius shrugged.

"Try candy names. He's always into candy."

"Candy. Okay. Um…Chocolate Frog."

The door remained firmly closed.

"Sherbet lemon." Sirius attempted listlessly.

"Cow Drop."

"Cockroach Cluster."

"Still nothing. Pumpkin Pasty."

"Liquorice Chalk. Bubble gum. Peppermint bolo. I'm running out of candy."

"What if we knock?" James wondered, and followed his own advice. The booming sound echoed unpleasantly loud through the hallway, and they both cowered against the wall. But then the door clicked, and opened. Sirius blinked.

"Okay." He said softly, squeezing James's arm. "Time to spill the beans, mate." His friend nodded. He opened the door completely, went through, and closed it behind Sirius's back. A chunky stairway appeared from an intricate design and ran up to the floor above. A few moments later, Dumbledore's fully clothed figure appeared at the top of the stairs.

"Come on up, you two," he said. "I already thought it might be you."

There. Next chapter: Why, what, and how. A buddy moment for Sirius and James (Yaaay! James finally got some character!) and Remus is told what happened.


	31. VIRUS 31 More Relevations

Okay. You people tell me to write faster, I write faster. But this probably does mean that this still isn't the penultimate chapter. Sigh. Oh well. I really liked writing this chapter and explaining most of the why and how. I might have forgotten some small bits, but then, this isn't the final chapter so I might write them later.

Thanks for all your reviews again! So many! Wheee! Now for answers.

Klee and MorganD, I know that animagi don't need wands to transform. But I thought this would be a nice little scene for them to find out. I've always seen animagi transforming with everything they hold and wear, so including the wand. And when they transform back, they have the wand in their body, so to speak, and use it that way. But yes, I know they don't need wands. In PoA neither Sirius nor Wormtail have a wand. I should perhaps have mentioned that they did use the wand before, but hey, I forgot. Maybe I can write it in when I re-edit. Ciria, Voldie might need Cynthia again. Even though he's evil, he isn't about to let his trusted servants get eaten by werewolves. And James isn't stupid or worried, he's TIRED. He's just been hit by two terrible curses, so it's only logical he's a bit woozy. You'll get the first part of two buddy moments. Silkistija, take your time in reading…as long as you review! Review! addicted salivated Grin. Hope you like the rest of the story as well. MorganD, thanks again for your huge and great reviews! You certainly made more than up for skipping one at first : ) Most of your questions for 29 will be answered in this one, I think—and about returning in sequels, I'll keep that in mind. Don't worry. I won't take the easy way out, if you know what I mean. Next chapter will deal with the aftermath and Remus and Sirius and stuff, and I've printed your review out to make sure that I won't miss any points : ) Silent-wishes, you were just in time for this chapter, so don't worry! I appreciate your efforts to review! Thanks! Everybody, enjoy chapter 31!

31. More Revelations

James and Sirius were sitting in two stuffy old chairs in Dumbledore's bedroom. Not his office, but his bedroom. The room did indeed hold a bed, but that was the only evidence of it being a bedroom; it was clustered with books, book cases, trunks and odd things, and held four comfy chairs and a square table. Dumbledore had pushed one of the chairs opposite of Sirius so he could put his leg up and sat himself on the fourth one, elbows leaning on the arms and fingers stapled beneath his chin.

"You say you saw Lord Voldemort?" he asked quietly. The two boys nodded. "You are absolutely sure about that?"

"Yes." James said, speaking for Sirius, who had been rather quiet for the past ten minutes. "I recognised his face from the papers.

"Sir, we're not making this up! Really, we aren't! we…" Dumbledore waved a thin long hand.

"I know you aren't making this up. Not even Sirius would…" he stopped, studying said pupil. He was still very pale, but two vivid red spots had appeared on his cheeks, and he rather looked as if he were having a fever. His dark eyes were burning, almost flashing with emotion.

"You are in love with miss Catterwall, aren't you, Sirius?" Sirius said nothing. Dumbledore sighed.

"Please go on, James."

"Well, he…that's Voldemort, he asked who I was and what we were doing here—Cynthia'd already called Pad…Sirius's name, so he knew his name, but he wanted to know mine and…" he swallowed and wiped his suddenly sweaty palms on his jeans. 

"Water?" the headmaster murmured, conjuring a glass out of thin air. James gratefully accepted it, took a great gulp.

"He cursed me." His body instinctively froze, as if expecting another attack, and he forced himself to take another sip and relax.

"He cursed you?"

"Imperius. And when that wouldn't work, he…cruciatus." He had expected Dumbledore to fly to his feet yelling fire and murder, but the old man only studied him with those shrewd glittery eyes of his.

"He used the cruciatus curse on you when the imperius didn't work."

"Y-yes sir."

"And what happened then? Did you tell him your name?"

"No, sir. I didn't. I…I don't exactly know why. It was just…I simply didn't want to tell him. Especially not after he cursed me. So I didn't. But in the end, Cynthia told him my name."

"But you didn't, not even under imperius."

"No. But sir, why did he use such extreme measures? I mean, it's…it's ridiculous to use such curses! There must be a thousand curses that can make somebody tell the truth; why use imperius—and cruciatus, it's insane!" The old man's moustache twitched, either with a tiny smile or the pursing of his lips.

"Not entirely. But go on. What happened after that?" James shook his head.

"I can't remember much after that, only that…some white flash…I think it was a unicorn. And then Sirius told me to run. I was…" he shrugged helplessly. "I wasn't all there anymore, after the cruciatus. I…it hurt…very badly." This time he was convinced the Headmaster smiled.

"That's why it's called Cruciatus, and is an Unforgivable Curse, my boy." He refilled James's glass, and conjured another one for Sirius, who was still sitting silently in his chair.

"Now, mister Black, I'm afraid it's your turn. If I've heard it correctly, you distracted Lord Voldemort to make sure James could escape?"

"Something like that." Sirius said shortly.

"Then what happened?" the boy shrugged.

"I…He backhanded me, and I fell, and then the unicorn attacked him, and then I fled. But I fell and twisted my knee. But there was one thing I did see," he sat up a little straighter, "he disapparated. Right there in the Forest! I thought you couldn't apparate on Hogwarts ground!?"

"You can't. But that particular little part of the Forest must have been no-man's land."

"Yes, he said something like that." James murmured, and took another swallow of water. His throat felt parched, probably from all the screams he'd kept inside. 

"What about miss Catterwall?"

"I don't know, and I don't care." Sirius said harshly. The flush spread all over his face; Voldemort's hand print suddenly appeared in white in the red on his left cheek. "She can die for all I care!"

"Now now now," Dumbledore hushed. "I'm sure miss Catterwall had her reasons for acting the way she did."

"Reasons?!" Sirius barked, growing even redder. "She killed I don't know how many animals; she almost killed Remus; she…she lied to everybody, played with everybody's mind, betrayed me and…and everything I believe in—for him! A maniac who uses forbidden curses as if they are mending charms! She…"

"You said she gave Lord Voldemort a package?" Dumbledore interrupted him calmly.

"She…"

"Please, mister Black, this is important."

"Yes," said James, taking over once more. "And I believe that it was a book. A book and translations on chapter seven of that book." He hesitated, then went on as the Professor gave him an encouraging nod, "I think it was a book from Saint Mungo's. I thought…well, Saint Mungo's was attacked a fortnight ago, and Cynthia returned with only a small burn. She said that she was close to the library when the explosion took place. But what if she were the one to cause that explosion? What if Voldemort wanted to have a certain book from the gibberish section? We have…I'm almost entirely sure that Cynthia's got a Mark, like the kind Snape was talking about." He stopped, gazing at the Headmaster questioningly. The man nodded.

"I know about the Mark. It is a primitive means of domination, but it only works properly when the wearer submits willingly to the placing of it.

"Apparently," he went on quietly, as if he were only thinking aloud, "Lord Voldemort has recovered that particular nasty enchantment. But go on." James shrugged.

"That's all, really. We think…" a quick glance at Sirius, "I think that Cynthia's been working for Voldemort for I don't know how long already, and stole a book from Saint Mungo's on the same day as she got a Mark, which gave her the perfect ruse to cover it up as an injury. Somehow, she managed to translate a part of that book, and Voldemort wanted to have it. The virus, as he said, was only a diversion—probably to get her to the hospital as an aspiring viralist. But…" He raised his hands, "I still can't figure out why and how. I mean, why follow Voldemort and break the rules for him? He didn't even get her name right! Why the risk, especially for those books—if my theory's right, that is. But even if it is, nobody could read those books. And if she couldn't read them either, then who translated that chapter? And what's that book about anyway? Mungo wasn't a politician, was he?"

"No," Dumbledore said softly. "Mungo wasn't a politician. He was a necromancer."

"What?!" James exclaimed, and even Sirius perked up slightly.

"A necromancer? But…he was a healer! A Saint, he wasn't a Dark Wizard."

"Oh yes, he was a healer," the Headmaster agreed. "But practically seen, he was a Dark Wizard as well. You see, during the War of the Wands, about four hundred years ago, Parcifal Mungo worked as a healer for the Faction of the Purple Dragon. He was an excellent healer, but still he was unable to save many of his friends. Now, the following we only know because of letters and diaries of his friends and acquaintances, but it is commonly accepted that Mungo, in order to prevent more deaths, investigated the Dark art of Resurrection. Purely out of humane intentions, of course. And we believe that he succeeded. Of course we cannot be completely sure, but one of Mungo's friends wrote that he had. He was a brilliant Wizard." He took off his half-moon spectacles and rubbed them on his beard.

"Mungo," he went on, "wasn't about to leave his notes and books to a power hungry generation. Or to a bunch of Dark Wizards. So, he wrote in a language only known, genewise, to the Mungo family. We call these family languages Genewrits. Only family members can read and write that language, and they do not have to study the language to be able to read it." James frowned.

"But…that woman. Mercy Mungoon? She was a Mungo and she couldn't read it." Sirius nodded.

"Yes, it was in the paper, a few weeks ago." Dumbledore replaced his glasses and shrugged.

"Mercy isn't a real Mungoon, although she doesn't know that herself."

"I feel something unpleasant's going to happen." Sirius muttered. "Don't tell me Cynthia's a Mungoon." Dumbledore smiled tightly.

"That's exactly what she is, Sirius."

"But…"

"Her mother was the last female Mungoon. The very last Mungoon alive, in fact. She Married a man called Fred Catterwall. Cynthia Catterwall now is the last member of the Mungo family, and therefore able to read his handwriting.

"Bear with me, James, Sirius. Let me tell you a story. About fifty years ago, Desiderius Mungoon and his wife had two daughters, Amy and Mercy. Amy was a natural healer, a viralist, although the term wasn't in use at the time. As a very small girl she already helped curing sick animals—that was when I met her. I was talking to her father when she came running with her pet rabbit in her arms, cheering about how she cured it. She was only about three years old, then. Of Mercy I know little, I must confess.

"Anyway, when the girls were four years old, a terrible accident killed Mercy and severely injured her mother. In that accident, another family was involved, a father, a mother and a small girl. None but the girl survived, but she lost her memory. Either because of the accident, or because someone erased it."

"And she was adopted by the Mungoons." Sirius understood. Dumbledore nodded.

"Of course it wasn't as easy as I tell it now, but yes, in effect, that was what happened. The small girl, approximately of Amy's age, was taken in by the Mungoons and brought up as Mercy Mungoon."

"Who was she, that girl?" James asked. Dumbledore shook his head.

"That is no longer important. It wasn't a plain accident that killed her family. They were known as Dark Wizards, and frankly, nobody grieved much about their death. Some still suspect that it was a direct attack on their lives, but that was never proven. It suffices to say that they were not greatly missed by the wizarding community. But the girl was innocent, and this was the perfect way to give her a fresh start. The new Mercy was a year older than the old Mercy, but after the shock of having her mother die and her true sister disappear, Amy was easily persuaded to take comfort in the presence of her new sister. 

"A great and welcome coincidence was the fact that 'Mercy' was also gifted with the touch of healing, though not as powerfully as her 'sister' or 'mother'. She never doubted the fact that she was a Mungoon."

"And Amy Mungoon was Cynthia's mother?"

"Yes. She died seven years ago, under suspicious circumstances. Desiderius died a few years before her, together with his wife. Like I said, Cynthia is the last Mungoon alive."

"But…" Sirius frowned. "If you knew that she was a Mungoon, and that she'd be able to read Saint Mungo's books…If you knew that Mercy Mungoon couldn't read them, why…?" He shook his head. "I can't think right now, but its stinks, that's for sure!" Dumbledore smiled, a little flash of a smile, much like the glint of a knife.

"Oh yes, it 'stinks', mister Black. We had a reason for not wanting Cynthia to go and read Mungo's books. 

"I just told you that Mungo was a necromancer—a necromancer with good intentions, but still a necromancer. He wrote down, according to legend, many spells dealing with resurrection, immortality and necromantic healing. Books that, read by the right people, could drastically improve today's medical and healing section. Do remember that the books were only recently found; until about three months ago, their existence was only a rumour, a hunch. The moment the books were discovered, I knew that the race for the Mungoons would begin." He twirled his fingers into his beard.

"Mercy Mungoon didn't know anything about her heritage, the ability to read Mungo's writings, until she was approached by someone who told her that she might have a chance to read them. And I can tell you one thing. It was not me."

"Voldemort." murmured James.

"Perhaps. Perhaps not. Only the select few know of Mungo's books, but those select few still count a few score of people. And not all of them I would trust with the ability to use necromancy, or a spell to mislead death."

"Mislead death? You mean immortality?" Sirius asked, flattened. His headmaster nodded, and he slumped back into his chair.

"Immortality. Yeah, I couldn't give her that."

"Whereas Voldemort certainly could," the old man agreed. "The spell still is far beyond her, but for a clever man like Tom…like Voldemort it should be manageable."

"Tom?" James, sharp as ever, asked.

"Lord Voldemort." said Dumbledore firmly. "Lord Voldemort might be able to perform Mungo's spells. And he has undoubtedly promised her to share his immortality with her."

"But that's illegal, right." said James. "As is torturing people, like me. Especially with forbidden curses. So what are we waiting for? Let's find Voldemort and what's his name, the Prime Minister of Magical affairs, and…"

"We will not do so," Dumbledore interrupted him, "because I know for a fact that Minister Voldemort attended a meeting this evening, and has only left Tottenham Court half an hour ago." Both boys gaped at him.

"Excuse me?"

"That's impossible! It was him, it was Voldemort!"

"He must've used Polyjuice and given someone else his appearance!"

"It was Voldemort! I'll swear it to anyone who wants me to!"

"How can you be sure he was there anyway?"

"Because I was there as well." The Headmaster replied calmly. "I had just returned when I heard you knock on the door.

Lord Voldemort," he went on, "Is a very dangerous man. A very powerful man as well. The fact that you saw him, and that he saw you…You do realise that this might have ended very differently?"

"I don't care!" Sirius snapped. "He should be locked up and thrown into Azkaban. This man isn't fit to be a minister. We'll testify against him, won't we James? We…"

"Have you listened to a single word I've said?" Dumbledore said sharply. "The man is dangerous! Especially now he's tested you…"

"Tested me?" cried James. "He bloody cursed me—pardon my French."

"He tested you." He tugged at his finger, which had became ensnarled in his beard, and locked his sparkling but now very serious eyes on James's face. "Or do you think that any remotely intelligent man goes around flinging illegal curses at school children? Of course not. Voldemort is far too smart to do such a foolish thing. He was testing you.

And of course it had to be you two..." James and Sirius blinked.

"Sir?" the latter asked gently. "Could you please explain what you mean?" Dumbledore sighed, then nodded. Once again, he turned to James.

"You have always been able to dodge spells rather easily, haven't you? Stunning charms and pain hexes…They never hurt you very much. It is the same for you, Sirius."

"No," Sirius said, shaking his head. "I'm not half as good at it as James. I just happen to have an extremely high pain threshold." Again the knife-glint smile.

"Lord Voldemort, when he was younger, was just the same," he said. "Oh yes, he was one of my pupils. One of my best pupils, I might even say. A positively brilliant student."

"Huh. I bet Remus could beat him." James muttered rebelliously, and this time Dumbledore smiled more friendly.

"I doubt it. Mister Lupin is an intelligent young man with a knack for studying, but I'm afraid Lord Voldemort would stick him in his pocket. He was a genius. Still is. As wicked as they come, but a genius. He also is one of the most powerful men I know. A special kind of wizard, stronger than his fellow wizards. They appear only once or twice in a generation, it is said, and therefore they are extremely rare.

"I am talking about a phenomenon that we have called 'Magid'."

"Magid?" Sirius murmured. "It rings a bell, but not a very loud one."

"You might have read about it in your History book, or your Defence Against the Dark Arts books," Dumbledore. "It is believed that some of the Founders were Magids. Anyway. A Magid is a wizard who is uncommonly strong, magical-wise. Such wizards are able to channel their magical powers without the use of a wand, and perform spells no other wizards can comprehend. Also, they seem to have an in-build resistance to many kinds of offensive spells, which means that they are able to withstand curses that would floor most other people." He paused for a few seconds, then concluded, "Salazar Slytherin, the Founder of Slytherin, was a Magid. Saint Mungo was one. And, as you might have guessed, Lord Voldemort is a Magid."

James moaned.

"Am I a Magid as well?" Dumbledore pursed his lips.

"That, dear James, I don't know yet. It may be. We have been keeping a close eye on you for the past four years, ever since you resisted a stunning spell without having your wand with you. You, and Sirius, Hartwell Davies from Hufflepuff and Lynn Monarch from Slytherin are three pupils that we've been watching closely because you four, more than any other student show signs that might possibly, mind me, possibly, mean that you are a Magid."

"Me too?" Sirius asked incredulously. The Headmaster nodded.

"Magid powers surface during adolescence. Hasn't it occurred to you that your magical powers have improved drastically the last two years?"

"Yeah, well, I went to school, you know." Sirius muttered, which made Dumbledore smile.

"If it makes you feel better, I can tell you that personally, I don't think that you're a Magid. You've caused many accidents, but none of the typically Magid type."

"And me?" James asked. "Do you think I'm a Magid?"

"Like I said, I don't know yet. The fact that you could resist a curse as powerful as imperius suggests that you have powers greater than is usual, but…I'm not sure, James."

"And Voldemort was testing that?"

"I should think so. You see, another odd fact about Magids is, that they attract each other. Sooner or later, Magids always meet each other. Imagine, Lord Voldemort has chosen a place where it is most unlikely to be discovered, and two Hogwart students come barging in just like that."

"But still…"

"James, listen carefully, and remember this. Magids are extremely powerful wizards. If one Magid decides to study the Dark Arts and rule the world, eccentric as it may seem, he or she has a very good chance at succeeding. Power creates a hunger for even more power, and power corrupts. Magids are not often born, but when they are, the following generation, or, if that generation fails to beget one, or if the Magid dies as a child, the generation after that one produces another Magid to counteract the previous one. A natural selection, simply because so many Magids cannot withstand the lure of power. Only Magids can purposefully fight other Magids, apart from a whole army.

"Lord Voldemort," he continued, "knows this. And therefore he tested you, to see whether you were a Magid. And the fact that you resisted his imperius curse might have persuaded him to think that you are one."

"And he knows who you are!" Sirius exclaimed. "Cynthia told him—Cynthia! Does she know anything about this?"

"I doubt it," said Dumbledore.

"Is she a Magid too?"

"No. No, she is not. If she were, she wouldn't have needed Lord Voldemort to cast Saint Mungo's spell, would she? No, miss Catterwall is nothing more than a viralist, although they are rare as they are. In the whole of Britain, there exist perhaps fifteen viralists." He sighed, and smiled grimly.

"Oh, Lord Voldemort's plan was very subtle and ingenious. He must have found out that Cynthia was the last Mungoon alive after her mother died. Although some pains were taken to keep her hidden. He must have approached her long before the books were actually discovered and told her of her heritage.

"Then, when the books were unearthed, he planned a way to get her in touch with the books. I have tried to keep her away from Saint Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies, but both Madam Pomfrey and Mrs Halberdash were adamant, and rightly so. A talent like hers should be taken advantage of as much as possible. And no one could have expected that she would betray us so totally."

He was quiet, and the two boys sat in silence as well. Finally, Sirius asked,

"And what now? I mean, what happens to Cynthia? And to Voldemort? And what about James and me? Voldemort knows who we are, now, and he also thinks that James's a Magid, an enemy. Won't he try to kill James?" Dumbledore templed his fingers again.

"I don't think that he will. He knows you two escaped, and I'm quite sure that he expects you to come running to me. Even if I cannot get him convicted for what he did today, he knows that if anything, anything at all happens to the two of you, I'll know where to find him.

"What he might try to do, James, is to persuade you to join his side."

"His side?" James cried. "But he's a minister, for God's sake! He hasn't…" he stopped, then whispered, "You weren't joking about Magids trying to take over the world, were you?"

"I'm afraid not."

"But…" Sirius waved his hands in a desperate stop sign. "How could he try to take over the world? He's not really planning to do such a….stupid thing like that, right?"

"If Miss Catterwall gave him the right spell, Lord Voldemort now is, or will soon be, immortal, or close to it. To take over the world might be a bit of an overstatement, but the British or even the European wizarding world…No, that is very well possible. Especially since many wizards share his opinions about Muggle born wizards and half-bloods. Lord Voldemort will not be just a minister for very long. He has connections, he has the magical power and he will soon have great political power as well."

"Then assassinate him before he can become even more dangerous!" Sirius shouted. "Just kill the bastard and be done with it! I don't understand why he hasn't been killed ages ago. The man's a maniac!"

"You cannot go around killing people simply because they pose a threat to you, Sirius," Dumbledore said softly. James had the feeling that he had told himself the same thing for a long time already.

He knew, damn it, he knew that something like this was going to happen! And when he proposed to do Voldemort away, he got the same reply.

"So you mean it's too late now?" Sirius asked, just as James proclaimed,

"I won't ever follow him!" The headmaster nodded, to James's exclamation apparently, for he told Sirius,

"It's never too late. Powerful he may be, Lord Voldemort still is only one Magid alone, although he will try to find more to aid him in his cause. Even if neither James nor you nor one of the others turns out to be a Magid, another one will rise. At the moment, Voldemort's threat is still too subtle to be recognised—"

"Not so very subtle," muttered Sirius, rubbing his knee and wincing.

"—and so he is tolerated, but I have all faith that he will be exposed before he starts posing a real threat."

"And that's that?" James said. "That's all??? We're just going to go on with our daily lives and forget that this's happened?"

"No. We will go on. But we won't forget, please, never forget! I will make sure that the Ministry knows all about this incident—that the right people know, so they can be cautious. Don't worry about that, by letting himself getting discovered by you, Lord Voldemort severally damaged his reputation. But we can't attack him in the open. He is too big an influence for that."

"And…and what about Cynthia?" Sirius wondered. "What will happen to her? She made the virus, but she did it on Voldemort's orders. He made her do it, and if she testifies…Will she still be sent to Azkaban?"

"If she's caught, yes." Dumbledore leaned a little bit forward, briefly touched the boy's slumped shoulder.

"She is of age, and she knew what she was doing. If she indeed has the Mark she won't be able to testify against Lord Voldemort, even if she wanted to, and so she will take all responsibility for her actions." He sighed. "I know this is hard for you, Sirius, but you will just have to accept the fact that she is a devious criminal. Which does not mean that she did not love you, of course."

"What do you want me to accept, then?" Sirius snarled. "The fact that she's a criminal or that she loved me? I can't see her as both a friend and an enemy!"

"No? You'd rather see her as an enemy alone? Then see her that way, if that makes it easier for you to forget her."

"I won't ever forget her."

"I don't think you will, no. But what you also shouldn't forget is that people are never entirely good or entirely evil."

"She told him James's name. And mine."

"Did she?"

"Yes."

"To what purpose? To betray you? Or to make him stop hurting you?"

"She was the one hurting me!" screamed Sirius. And suddenly he was crying again, no matter how tightly he tried to control it, not just crying but sobbing so hard his throat hurt of it. He covered his face with his hands, vainly trying to conceal his tears and the pain he was sure was showing so clearly, whishing he could run away and hide and howl and rip at the walls, but most of all to escape from Dumbledore's gentle sympathy—but he couldn't, so he remained hunched over in his seat, head almost touching his thighs, sobbing his heart out.

And then something else covered him, concealed him from the world with a body and an all-encompassing hug; James squatted in front of him and wrapped his arms around him, resting his head on his shoulder while his hands gripped Sirius's sides, simply holding him tightly while he fell apart.

"Sirius. Sirius…it's okay. It's okay."

"I will go and get Madam Pomfrey," Dumbledore said quietly, stood up and descended the stairs. James nodded, Sirius didn't even notice.

"I…" he stammered, "I'm…" But James made a shushing sound and hugged him tighter.

"It's okay, Sirius. He's gone. It's okay." He squeezed his eyes shut.

"It'll all be okay."

Happy, Ciria?

Next chapter:  Remus returns, Sirius frets, James and Sirius have a buddy moment. If possible, the end of the story. If not, you'll be cursed with an epilogue! : )

Note: I almost forgot! The word Magid and what it implies belongs to Cassandra Claire and her Draco trilogy. I sent her an email requesting whether I could use it, and she never replied. Maybe she didn't get it. Or maybe she forgot to write back. Anyway, it's her word, not mine, although if she were to tell me that I can't use the word, I'll make up another one with a similar meaning. Because I think Harry is such a wizard. Just so nobody will accuse me of plagiary. 


	32. VIRUS 32

Phew! I had little time to write, so I'm a little late. And no, it's still not finished. So either it's a huge epilogue or simply another chapter and an epilogue. I don't know. Nemesister Raptor: yes, I tried to imitate JK Rowling's way of writing, or at least her plot forming. Small, insignificant hints that turn out to be very important. MorganD complained (not without reason : ) about information overload, but really, half of what's in the last chapter isn't really important now. Since some of you seem to be confused about the Magid thing—it's NOT IMPORTANT for the Marauders. I can tell you straight ahead that none of them is a Magid. James might have been one, but he isn't. Harry will be a Magid. So don't worry about the Magid thing. It's something for the future, and the reason why Voldemort was interested in James and Sirius. That's all. As for hints and information, at the end of the story I'll give you a list with hints and in which chapter to find them. Looking back I realise that those hints weren't enough to enable you readers to guess who, what and why—Sorry. I keep forgetting that if you know the story, every hint seems blatant. There were no hints at Magids at all (because nobody needs to know what they are, except that they are rare and powerful, and that Voldemort is one and that if one generation fails to produce one, the next generation will), but I did tell you that Mercy was Cynthia's aunt. Originally I planned her to send Cynthia a postcard to stress their family-ties, but I couldn't find the right opportunity for it, so I scratched it. Lunard, I think I know what you're talking about with my s's. Yes, the way I write isn't always correct. It's –what d'you call it- speech language. In 'forget that this's happened' the 's stands for 'has' and it's not the right contraction, but it's the way they speak. You were the first to review, I think, and then I'd forgotten to put up the note that the word Magid is Cassie's. it's her word, go and ask her where she got it : ) Thanks for the review, and I hope I can provide you with some new drug. Sakura Blossom…next chapter will have Moony. Don't worry. Zetta…I'm afraid this fic will end soon. But I already have some tiny sequel in mind. Shorter, perhaps 30 pages, no more. And a longer sequel as well…if I ever come to writing it…Alicorn! Thanks for reviewing and have a nice sleep : ) MorganD…I already replied to some of your review-points…This was your first chastening review (sob) : ). You're partly right about the info overload. But not wholly. But, like my DM always says to us D&D party members when we miss another important clue for the story: Player characters are blind when it comes to hints! He's right. It's much easier seeing a plot when you're the one making it : ) Just remember that I don't have a beta reader who can tap me on the fingers saying "It's not clear at all!" So, in my revised story I'll try to put in more hints. Not about Magids, because they're not important now, but maybe about Mercy (although I'd like to keep her vague. After all, she isn't really important either) I'm feeling quite honoured that you read last chapter 3 times just to find out how it worked : ) I'll explain some things in this chapter. Some later. Some never.

Aaarg, I've been talking for too long already! Here's chapter 32!

32. Sirius

By the time that Madam Pomfrey and Dumbledore returned, Sirius was only hiccupping a little, but he looked so pitiful with his red-mottled face that Madam Pomfrey spontaneously began to cluck.

"Oh my poor dear…"

"I'm fine," Sirius said harshly, self-consciously wiping his red eyes. "James is the one you should be looking at."

"Hey!" James protested, but subjected to the medical witch's examination when Sirius gave him a pleading look. She held her hand in front of his face, moved it down to his neck and his chest, never touching him, and frowned.

"A curse?"

"Two," Dumbledore informed her. "Both of the forbidden kind."

"What? But that's…who dared to do such a thing? And why?"

"I will explain it to you later, Poppy, my dear, if you don't mind. Let's first get these two young men patched up and into bed."

"I really feel fine now," James said hastily. "I mean, I'm tired and…"

"Do you have a headache?" Madam Pomfrey interrupted him. "Weak knees? Nausea?"

"N-Yes, a little, and yes, but I don't feel sick or anything. I'm just tired. Really. If I just get some sleep…"

"I'd like to take you to the infirmary, just to make sure that you're alright." 

"But I'm fine! If I skip the first few hours tomorrow morning I'll be fine." She studied him with her hands on her hips, mouth pursed as usual.

"Peter'll be wondering where we are," Sirius interjected suddenly. "He woke up when we left the room, but we didn't take him with us. He doesn't like the Forest much."

James ignored the urge to smile, and nodded.

"Damn, yes, Peter. I forgot all about him. I hope he didn't wait up."

He glanced at the Headmaster, whose eyes were twinkling again. The man shrugged.

"If James himself says he does not need to go to the infirmary…"

"I don't! I mean, I do!"

"Then, of course, you can go and make sure that mister Pettigrew hasn't missed too much sleep."

He knows. James thought, with a hint of uneasiness. Or he pretends he knows. Either way, it's scary.

"Okay. I'll go then. Unless you want me to stay?" This to Sirius, who shook his head.

"I'll be fine. Maybe I can sleep in the same room as Moony."

"Mister Lupin!" Madam Pomfrey exclaimed, slapping her hand against her head. "I was on my way to collect him. He must have Changed back by now.

"Sirius, Albus told me you'd hurt your knee? Let me have a look at it."

"Right here?" Sirius asked. "I'd have to drop my trousers, you know…" He tried to grin, but somehow it didn't have the desired effect. Madam Pomfrey's eyes softened.

"I'll take you to the elevator and help you to the infirmary, then I can have a look at it there."

"Elevator?"

"Yes. Behind the tapestry of the Cyclops and the sheep. Didn't you know it was there?"

Ten minutes later, James sneaked back into the boys' dormitory. To his surprise, both Lily and Peter were sitting on Peter's bed. Will Devereaux slept soundly in the corner, despite the wand they had lit.

"Don't worry, we made sure he won't wake up," Lily said, waving her own (unlit) wand, then held out her arm. "So what happened? You look awful. Where's Sirius?"

"Madam Pomfrey took him to the infirmary, and I think she'll keep him there." He stepped into the arch of her arm, leaned against her.

"As for me, I'm really knackered and cold, so if you don't mind I'll get out of my clothes and into bed."

He undressed quickly, crawled into bed and drew up his knees. Peter and Lily sat down on the edge of his bed.

"So? Did you find Dumbledore? What'd he say?" James shivered. Now he was warm in his bed, he finally noticed how cold he had been.

"Dumbledore said a lot of things. I'm not sure I can repeat it all now, but…Cynthia, no, Saint Mungo's the key figure in this whole sordid situation."

He went on, repeating the things Dumbledore had told him, trying to explain what happened, but even to himself it sounded weird and illogical. Farfetched, even. The whole thing made his head spin. Magids, Mungoons…

"It's such a bunch of nonsense, you know," he complained, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I can't…I just can't think about it right now. All I want to do is go to sleep."

 "We could all use some sleep," Peter said. "Even if you're excused for the classes before lunch, I'm not. And it's almost five, now." Lily cursed.

"I have a test tomorrow.

"What're you laughing about?" James shook his head.

"Nothing. Well…you complaining about a test, after all that's happened."

"Me failing my test can't be of any positive effect on this whole mess," Lily bristled. "It won't render Cynthia innocent, and it won't make you a Magid."

"Dumbledore said…"

"That you might be a Magid. Yes, you said so. But 'might' isn't the same as 'are', Jamie. Anyway, it's too late to think about that now. I'm going to bed before someone finds out we're awake. I wouldn't put it past Madam Pomfrey to come check on you." She kissed him, swiftly at first, but then more lovingly.

"Get some sleep. I'll see if I can find out a little bit more about this whole Magid thing, okay?"

"Sure," James muttered. Before her weight had left his bed he had fallen asleep, and he did not even hear Peter's good night.

*

Remus fought himself out of his semi-unconscious half-sleep, alerted, somehow, by a scent that he did not think he should be smelling. What exactly that scent was, he did not know, nor why it was that it made him feel so uneasy. He was lying in bed, so he had to be back in the infirmary already, but he couldn't remember waking up in the shack.

And that's odd. I always wake up, if only a few seconds. Why didn't I wake up today?

He had been dreaming. Or maybe he was remembering things from yesterday night. He did not know. But Cynthia was in it, and something Bad, someone that still made his hackles rise, even in human form. The moment he forced his eyes open (immediately closing them against the light), he recognised the scent as well, as if his consciousness suddenly made a leap from dream to reality.

Sirius. That's Sirius! What's he doing here? Did I bite him? Did I…good god, did I bite Cynthia? Did I kill her?

He jerked into a sitting position, biting his jaws together as that movement strained already over-stretched muscles, and anxiously peered at the bed beside his own. Yes, that was definitely Sirius burrowed beneath those blankets. He smelled healthy, if a little…dark, somehow, but he didn't smell of blood or disease, and that relieved him to no amount. But what was he doing here? Why was Sirius in the infirmary?

Oh, to hell with it! I need to know!

He slipped out of bed and shook his friend's shoulder.

"Sirius! Wake up! Wake up!"

"No…" Sirius protested, and burrowed further beneath the blanket, but Remus simply dug him out and kept on shaking him.

"Wake up! You can sleep on when you've answered me. What are you doing here? Where are the others? Wake up, damn it! Did I bite you? Are you hurt? Did I do that? Wake up!" Sirius feebly pushed at his hands.

"Knock it off, Remus, I'm awake."

"What are you doing here? What happened yesterday? Was that Cynthia in the Forest? I didn't kill her, did I? Please tell me I didn't kill her, please tell me she's safe!"

Sirius rubbed his face. His eyes were puffy, Remus noticed, and he wondered whether he'd been crying. Surely not. Sirius never cried.

"I didn't…?"

"Would you shut up and let me tell you?" Remus shut his mouth with a click of teeth. Taking a deep breath, Sirius closed his eyes and said, quickly and tonelessly,

"You didn't bite me, but you did escape yesterday. And when we followed your trail we saw Cynthia walking one of the paths to a clearing, and we decided to follow her to see what she was doing there. Turned out she met up with Voldemort. She's got one of those Mark things Snape didn't want to have, and she created the disease that almost did you in. Then Voldemort discovered us and created a nice little torture scene, and then you jumped into the clearing and saved our lives. Then we went back to the castle and had a little chat with Dumbledore, who told us some confusing story about Cynthia being a Mungoon and a reason why Voldemort would want to fling illegal curses at us, and then Madam Pomfrey brought me here, healed my knee and I fell asleep." He exhaled. "That's about all. Can I go back to sleep now?"

"But…n-no, you can't go back to sleep! Cynthia…are you joking? You're joking, right? I mean, Cynthia can't have created the Virus, that's absurd!"

"Oh, I agree with you there," Sirius said bitterly. "Absurd as can be, but true nevertheless."

"But where is she now? And Voldemort? Minister Voldemort? How…"

"Where she is? I wouldn't know, Moony. Somewhere in a drainage ditch, I hope, with her throat slit. And Voldemort's probably at home reading one of those chapters about immortality at the moment."

"I didn't bite anybody?" Sirius's already dark eyes darkened even more.

"Not everything is about you biting people, you know! There are worse things on earth than being bitten by a werewolf! And even if you had bitten somebody, hell, it would've been an improvement. I imagine you're better off being a werewolf than going to Azkaban for the rest of your life."

Remus said nothing.

"No," Sirius went on, less heatedly, "you didn't bite anyone. You saved us, James and me. He was going to erase our memories, or worse. But…" Another rub over his face. "I'm still very tired. Madam Pomfrey gave me some kind of potion yesterday, and it feels like my head's filled with cotton. So I'd really like to go back to sleep now I still can."

"How can you think about sleeping?" Sirius laughed mirthlessly.

"It's the best bloody thing I can think about right now." He curled up again, pulled the blankets up to his ears.

"Good night."

"Sirius, I…"

"Good night, Moony."

He resolutely closed his eyes, turned away and hid his face in his elbow.

*

Lunch had only just started when Remus limped into the great hall. Madam Pomfrey had told him to stay put for a few hours, since she thought that his first Change after his illness had worn him out much more than she had thought, but with Sirius stubbornly asleep and no one who wanted to tell him what exactly had happened yesterday, Remus was too uneasy to stay in bed.

He did feel sore and tired, much more than he usually did, (and he felt like a boiled egg because Madam Pomfrey had dutifully given him a full goblet of Pepper-up) but he just had to know what happened during the night. Running his eyes over the Gryffindor table, he perked up as he noticed Peter sitting on his usual place (Marauder space!), yawning over his sandwiches. 

"Peter!" The boy turned around, waved.

"Remus! I hadn't expected to see you so soon. You don't look so good, though."

"To hell with my looks! What on earth happened yesterday evening? I spoke to Sirius but all he said was that Cynthia made the virus, and….aaarg! I could throttle him! Where's James, and where's Lily? And what happened to Sirius anyway! And what happened to me? And where's Cynthia now? And Voldemort? I don't…" Peter hastily picked up a sandwich and squashed it against his friend's mouth.

"Be quiet, you silly git!" he hissed, "D'you want everybody to know about our happenings? Keep your voice down!"

"Them phell me whap phe blooby hell happened!" Remus hissed back, absentmindedly stuffing the rest of the sandwich into his mouth and swallowing.

"What happened," Peter whispered, "is that you ran away, and while we were trying to find you, we bumped into Cynthia and Lord Voldemort exchanging something, and from their conversation we learned that Cynthia was the one who made the virus. I mean, it's pretty logical actually. She's a viralist. Who could better make a virus than a viralist?"

"I knew there was something fishy about her," Remus murmured, but it didn't make him feel better. If anything, it made him feel guilty. Especially since Sirius seemed to have loved her so much. Peter chuckled.

"Yeah, you knew. And that bugs Sirius to no end. Don't be surprised if he comes to show his new girlfriends to you first, in the near future."

"Peter!"

"Well, it's true! You were the only one who hated her from the start."

"That's not true! I never hated her, I only…"

"Loathed her." Remus shook his head.

"It doesn't matter. What happened after that? Sirius said that Voldemort tortured you?"

"Only Sirius and James. I was still in rat-form. Hell, I don't know why James and Sirius transformed back; it was the stupidest thing to do. But okay, they had, and there's nothing we can do about it now. But yes, Voldemort cast the imperius curse on James to make him say his name, and when he resisted it he cast cruciatus."

"He did what?"

"It was some kind of test, Dumbledore says. He thinks that James might be a Magid."

"What on earth is a Magid?" Peter smirked.

"Some kind of Über-wizard. I don't know. Anyway, he was going to erase their memory when you suddenly showed up. Right on time, I might add. Voldemort tried to kill you, but Sirius was really heroic and made sure James and I could escape, and stopped Voldemort from killing you. I don't know what happened after that exactly, but in the end Cynthia and Voldemort disapparated, and…"

"Disapparated??? On Hogwarts ground?" Peter held up his hands.

"Don't ask me, Remus."

"Okay. Sorry, go on."

"Well, nothing much happened after that. Cynthia and Voldemort disapparated, Sirius twisted his knee running away from you, and you fell asleep on top of him. Real cute."

"I really didn't bite him?"

"I don't know. I wasn't there. But I don't think so. If he says you didn't bite him, why don't you do yourself a favour and believe him? I mean, Sirius always—hang on.

"James! Lily! Here!" He waved, and a few seconds later their two friends sat down next to them. Lily plunked two large books on the table.

"Remus! Are you okay?"

"Sure. Fine." He looked at James, who seemed considerably the worse for wear. His friend smiled.

"Apart from a slight yet consistent headache, quivering limbs and sudden spells of dizziness I feel quite alright." He took a sandwich, sniffled at it, took a bite and sighed. "Sirius not back yet?"

"He didn't want to wake up."

"Poor bloke. Is there any news about Cynthia yet?" Peter shook his head.

"Not as far as I know. I read the Daily Prophet, but there was nothing in it—but that's only logical. Even if Dumbledore told the newspaper—which I doubt—they couldn't have published it yet.

"What's that book, by the way? I don't recognise it."

"Great Forces and Ancient Magic," Lily muttered absentmindedly, leafing through a few pages. "Magnifiers. Mag…Mag…Here it is. Magids. Okay James, did you ever use magic before you had a wand?"

"Of course I did. Everybody does."

"Not everybody. But I did that as well—I made all the bees disappear from our garden when I was five. I hated bees—and since I'm not classified as a possible Magid I think we can scratch this one.

"Okay. After acquiring your wand, did you ever use magic without using it?"

"I don't know," James said, and took a sip of coffee. "Don't think so."

"Sirius did," Peter interjected. "He transformed into Padfoot without his wand. I still had it."

"You don't really need a wand to transform into your animagus form," Remus said softly. "The final spell changes your cells so you can change at any moment you want, with or without a wand. I read it in Trances and Transfigurations."

"Really?" James blinked in tired surprise. "I didn't know that. I always thought I needed my wand to do magic."

"You don't need a wand to apparate either," Lily mused aloud. "It makes sense that a wizard or witch can do magic without a wand. After all, it's only a channelling device, right?"

"Whatever. Until now, my Magid score isn't very high. What's the next characteristic?"

"Intelligence." James laughed.

"Right. Well, since neither of us is particularly stupid, I think that intelligence applies to all of us." Lily umphed, but read on.

"'During adolescence, a Magid causes several strange accidents which are to be blamed on his or her hormones. Examples are sudden bouts of hail or frogs, explosions or apparitions.'" James shook his head.

"What on earth makes Dumbledore think I'm a Magid? I never caused any accidents."

"You still have three years of adolescence to go, my pet," said Lily with a grin. "But I agree, so far neither you nor Sirius answer to the requirements. Let's see.

"'A Magid usually is the exploring type, interesting in the unknown.'"

"Meet every boy and girl in the world, mister author," Peter muttered.

"'Magids are exceptionally good at learning and performing complicated spells; their magical power is many times stronger than that of the ordinary wizard. Likewise, they have an uncommonly strong resistance, both physically and magically. They are loyal to their own rules and to those who…'

"Oh, this doesn't make any sense at all!" Angrily, she slammed the book shut. 

"It's written like a bad horoscope."

"Have a sandwich, Lil."

"So," Remus said, passing a cheese sandwich to Lily, "summarized, a Magid is a wizard who is many times stronger than an ordinary wizard, both because of his magical powers and his mental powers."

"And those powers surface in a Magid's teens." added James. "That's what Dumbledore said. And then they wreak havoc on the world by making it rain frogs or something."

"Hm. Sounds interesting."

"Yeah, I wish to god I could make it rain frogs." 

            They sat in silence for a while, munching sandwiches and drinking much needed coffee.

"Extra Quidditch practice today," Peter suddenly remembered. James rolled his eyes, then grimaced.

"Peter! How banal!" 

"Well it's the truth, you know. The Slytherin Match is only like four days away. Liza Wood's practically gnawed her nails to the bone.  I saw her this morning."

"I can't fly today. I'd fall off my broom and break my neck."

"And Sirius's still in the infirmary and I'm not sure he'll come out today." Remus nodded.

"Although I could take his place." Peter arched his eyebrows.

"You sure?You didn't look all to stable when you came in."

"I was worried, tired and hungry. I tend to be less stable than usual when I'm worried, tired and hungry." He took another sandwich. "I'm no longer hungry, so I should be okay."

"You did get hit by a curse, this night." Remus smirked.

"I'm used to being cursed. Piece of cake." He took a bite, chewed, and glanced at the Ravenclaw table. One of Cynthia's friends, a girl named Alison, was looking a little bit grumpy, but none of her class mates seemed to really miss her. Or if they did, they didn't look worried, or flustered, or anxious.

"They don't know yet," he realised with a pang of sympathy.

"No," James said. "Imagine finding out that one of your class mates's a Dark Wizard and a murderer—and not being a Slytherin."

"Do you think Dumbledore will tell them? Or will he keep it secret?" Lily shook her head.

"He won't be able to keep it a secret. Not now she's on the run. Besides, it's too big, now."

"You'll probably have to testify against her." James nodded.

"Yeah. Me and Sirius. Oh damn, poor Sirius."

"He'll get over it." James's mouth quirked.

"Of course he will. He always does, doesn't he? But that doesn't mean that I don't feel sorry for him. Losing your girl like that…That bitch! I wish I could wring her neck myself! And so would you, if you'd seen his face, yesterday."

"I already did," Remus said softly. "That's why I was so afraid I'd killed her. After all I'd said, I mean."

"Maybe you should have," mused Peter. "It would certainly have simplified matters."

He stirred his coffee and had already set his lips to his cup when he felt three pairs of eyes boring into his head. "What?"

Remus sighed, shook his head.

"Sometimes you can be so cruel, Peter, you haven't a clue. Do you know what happens with a werewolf that kills? They get tagged red. And I'd rather stay white, if it's the same for you." 

Peter flushed.

"Oh. Sorry. I hadn't thought about what it'd mean to you."

"You rarely do," Remus said friendly. Lily frowned.

"You're tagged?"

"Uhuh. All werewolves're tagged. Didn't you know?"

"No, I didn't. But…I never saw your tag. Not even in the infirmary, when Cynthia tried to heal you. Ah, bad imagery. Sorry."

"It's okay. At least she felt bad about killing me. That's good, isn't it?"

"The tag, Remus." Remus sighed.

"It doesn't show unless it's activated by a certain spell."

"What spell?" He shrugged.

"Don't know."

"Oh come on!"

"I said I don't know!" He threw the remains of his sixth sandwich on his plate and went into defensive mode. "I'll pay extra attention when I get my check-up at the end of the year, okay? Then I'll show you and you can ascertain that I'm still white. Jeez!" James made a tutting sound.

"Cool down, Moony. She wasn't implying anything. You can't blame us for wanting to see your mysterious tag."

"You and every Slytherin bastard in the building," Remus snapped.

"Now now now," Peter hushed. "Let's not lose our tempers here. You know we wouldn't misuse a spell that could betray you—we're not Slytherins, you know."

"I should hope not." Remus muttered, and picked up his sandwich. James arched his eyebrows, and Lily gave a light shrug. Post Change Syndrom. He's always paranoid after the Change.

"I hope Sirius'll be back soon." The first said, picking at the crumbs on his plate. "I really need to talk with him."

*

Even though he knew Remus wanted to talk, Sirius kept his eyes firmly closed and pretended to be asleep. He simply wasn't up to talking—partly, indeed, because of the potion Madam Pomfrey had given him and his true exhaustion, partly because he was afraid that he'd start to cry again if he said Cynthia's name more than three times. He was done with crying in front of people. James was one thing, James was his best friend, and he'd seen James cry as well, but Remus…Remus was the one who should be pitied and comforted; the emotional one of their little Marauder group. Sirius was quite sure that if Remus looked at him with those weird big eyes of his, with a world of shared pain in their depth, he'd collapse in a sobbing heap once more, and he did not want to cry anymore. It was a waste of energy. Especially for Cynthia. Cynthia.

            Beneath his blanket, his hands balled to fists and he bit his pillow in a sudden fit of rage. But he didn't tear it, because Remus was still in the same room, and now Madam Pomfrey walked in as well. 

Don't tell her I was awake, he pleaded silently to Remus. Please don't make her talk to me.

He should have known better. As if Remus would ever expose anyone. All Remus said when the medical witch asked him if he knew whether Sirius had woken already, was that he thought that he was fast asleep, and that he smelled very tired.

Sirius smiled faintly.

Good old Moony. I'll thank you later. Just not now. Not just yet.

He listened to Madam Pomfrey's vague explanations and hoped that Remus wouldn't betray himself by asking whether he had bitten anyone, but thankfully his friend was as sharp as ever. Not sharp enough to avoid the Pepper-up the witch thrust into his hands, but sharp enough to leave the room and leave Sirius to his own.

            When he was gone, Madam Pomfrey briefly rested her hand on Sirius's forehead and he dutifully gave a sleepy moan; "Sleep some more, dear," she murmured, then her hand disappeared again, and a moment later the door shut closed.

He slept for a few hours longer, wilfully forcing his thoughts off the subject of Cynthia, but around two he was wide awake, if unwilling to face the world, and he lay in his bed with his eyes open, staring blindly into the distance.

It was a strange feeling, heartache. Like a really bad form of guilt. It twisted his bowels like a disease and thumped dully in his chest.

And sulking here, no, moping here, won't change it a bit. Nevertheless he couldn't make himself stand up. At least that annoying urge to cry had gone now, that was something already. All he felt now was a strong desire to hit something, hard and repeatedly, but even that could wait.

            The door creaked, and for a split second he considered feigning sleep again, but decided against it and met Madam Pomfrey with open eyes and a polite smile.

"Ah, you're awake. How do you feel?" He shrugged.

"Okay. Bit funny."

"Funny?" She placed a plate with four sandwiches in his lap. "In what way funny?" Another shrug.

"Don't know. Just, funny."

"And your knee?" He flexed his leg.

"Fine. It doesn't hurt anymore."

"Good." She pointed at the plate. "Eat something. After that, you can go back to sleep if you want. You still look awfully drawn."

A grin fought its way through Sirius's mouth.

"Drawn? Me?"

"Well, what happened to you yesterday…"

"It's over and done with." He regarded her as he picked up his first sandwich. Madam Pomfrey looked a little drawn herself.

No wonder. Her prized pupil turned out to be a homicidal loon. Strangely enough, that made him feel a little bit better.

"Did they…" he swallowed. "Did they catch her, already?" Madam Pomfrey shook her head.

"I don't know. I haven't read anything in the paper, if that's what you mean."

"That's what I meant."

Silence. Suddenly, he wanted to get out of here, do something.

"Classes will finish in half an hour."

"Yes?"

"I'd like to go out and play Quidditch." She smiled.

"You can do what you want. You're not ill or anything. I just wanted to keep you here because I thought that…well, after yesterday's events you seemed so shaken I thought you could do with some rest and solitude." Sirius chuckled.

"Yeah. Maybe I did. Thanks. But I really feel quite chipper now." She smiled at his use of the word 'chipper'.

"As long as you don't fall off your broom again."

"I won't." He finished his last piece of bread, handed her the plate as she held out her hand.

"I'll trust you on that, then. Your clothes are on the chair in the corner. There's a towel in the bathroom if you want to take a shower, although I'm afraid you'll have to do without a toothbrush."

"Okay."

"Good. Be careful." 

"I will." 

She left, and Sirius sat on the edge of his bed for a while, thinking and dangling his legs. His knee didn't hurt at all anymore; his leg shouldn't bother him during Quidditch.

And neither should this stupid heart of mine. So it got broken. Big deal. I've broken so many hearts, these past two years, and nobody died of it.

Of course, I never tried to kill Melany's best friend, but hey, it happens. She's okay, so why shouldn't I be okay?

Come to think of it, I never hexed Melany either.

Cynthia's a bitch, and that's all to it. I'm better off without her. I hope she goes to Azkaban and…

He suddenly remembered the one and only time he'd been to Azkaban, during that compulsory 'Hogwarts day out' two years ago, and shivered. All they had seen, the group of fourteen-year-olds from all the four houses, was the threshold and a few dementors, but it had been enough to make them flee back towards the boat they had come with and sit shivering in their chairs, hoping that they'd leave soon—as in right away.

            He imagined Cynthia stepping out of such a boat, looking gaunt and frightened, her blond hair shining like gold in a stray sun beam…paling at the sight of the approaching dementors…her wide blue eyes turning grey with fear…

And he gripped the edge of his bed until his fingers began to hurt.

"I hope you die." he ground out between his teeth. "God, I hope you die before they catch you."

*

Even though James said that he couldn't fly, they all went to the Quidditch pitch to watch; Remus carrying a spare set of Quidditch gloves in case he had to substitute Sirius. But as they walked out to the pitch, they found, to their surprise, Sirius already standing there, hands buried deep in his Quidditch robes, Beater bat clenched between his arm and his side.

"Sirius!" James called, breaking out in a kind of stumbling trot. "I didn't know Poppy'd let you go." Sirius reached out and steadied James as he came to a wobbly stand-still, and grinned.

"Looks like you should be in there, not me. You look a lot worse than me."

Which was true, Lily thought as she walked up to them. Sirius looked fine, not even pale or unhappy. He was grinning broadly, as usual, and the only thing that looked ruffled was his hair. Although…

"Sirius?" He turned towards her, still smiling.

"Hm?"

"I'm sorry." The smile stiffened.

"For what? I'm better off without her. I should feel lucky, finding out what she was at this stage of our relationship." He shrugged airily. "All the more reason to go out and have fun." He turned to Remus.

"You woulnd't mind sniffing out my girlfriends before I start a serious affair with them, would you, Moony? I mean, you were right from the start, so…" Remus flinched.

"For god's sake, Sirius…"

"No no no no, don't take it the wrong way! You were right, that's what I want to say. I was just talking about it with James, yesterday, about the fact that you didn't like her from the start, and that you were right about that. So next time, to keep me from falling in love with the wrong kind of girl, you can check her out before I date her, you know, see if you like her scent. If you don't, I'll dump her as a possible Dark Wizard. Or just have a really good shag and then dump her. Sounds even better."

He grinned in a terribly fake-sunny way.

"Why on earth do you all look like I just shot your best friend? I'm the one who should be whining, not you."

"You're not whining, no," Remus said bitingly. "You're delirious. Stop being an ass and—for god's sake, Sirius, stop pretending you don't care! We know you care, that's okay. Hell, if I…"

"Yes, if you," Sirius said, playfully poking him in the chest, "But this isn't you, mate, this is me. And I say: hey, it's been fun, she narked on me; fuck it now. I'm not going to let something as stupid as this ruin a good Quidditch game.

"James, can you fly?"

"No, I can't, and I'm not sure…"

"Don't say it, Jamie-lad," sing-songed Sirius, wagging his finger in front of James's face. "Me, I'm bright as a daisy. Ah, is that Liza? Come on Lily, why haven't you changed yet?"

He gave them a cheery wave, flipped his bat in the air, jumped on his broom and swerved towards Liza Wood, who greeted him with a smile.

"Shall I get madam Pomfrey now," Peter asked morosely, "Or shall we wait until he lies unconscious on the ground?"

"Maybe you should go and get her now," Lily said. She sighed. "I'd better go and get changed. James, don't let Liza talk you into Seeking. We don't need another suicidal member on the Team."

"Don't worry," James reassured her, "I won't fly today. And I'll have a little chat with Liza too. The first sign Sirius gives about diving headfirst into something that isn't a hoop, I'll tell her to leviosa him or stun him, if needs be." He smiled, the humour of it all suddenly dawning.

"My, this is going to be some practice!"

Next chapter: Sirius reads the paper and effectively deals with his feelings, Remus looks into the mirror, and James gives Sirius a birthday gift.


	33. VIRUS 33

Hello! Sorry for taking so long, but I was quite unexpectedly hit by a remarkably stubborn writer's block that I finally broke through today. Yay! Four pages in one evening. Anyway, The following chapter will be the last, although after that I'll give you a list with hints and tips and some thoughts, and answers. I still have some kind of small sequel planned (the one with the slash—won't be completely slash though), so don't worry. I just might need some time getting there. This chapter turned out quite differently than I had in mind, and I may change it yet, but I post it anyway. Zetta, thanks for your review—well, all of you thanks, of course! Remus isn't really cranky the morning after, just when they start treating him different than usual. He's kinda cranky this whole chapter I'm afraid. Can't stretch it much longer too, am afraid. : ) Sakura Blossoms…what can I say…I'm sorry: ) Maybe I can give you some methadone? : ) CatalinaRose, here you are! Here you all are!

33. Rows and liquor

Against all expectations, Sirius flew beautifully. True, he beat every Bludger unnecessarily hard, and he fractured his bat against one of the hoop poles, but he didn't crash, didn't fall, and didn't end up like a broken doll on the ground. Gryffindor had no Seeker with James sitting pale-faced at the side, so they practiced without a Snitch, but as a practice it wasn't bad at all.

Of course, the fact that no one seemed to know that Cynthia was a fugitive was fortunate. With no one to feel sorry for him (apart from the Marauders), condole him or laugh at him, Sirius didn't have to fight quite as hard to keep up his façade, though Remus still thought that his friend's smile was terribly fake. 

He said nothing, however. After all the lesser implications and absentminded insults, Remus didn't really feel like talking to anyone of his friends—at least not until they could speak about something else than the drama in the Forest. So he sat quietly beside James and Peter, watching his Team fly, and tried to remember what had happened yesterday. If he concentrated really hard, he could remember running, and hunting something. The taste of blood, still tangy in the back of his throat in the morning. Smelling new scents. Perfume. And very vaguely, the dark, spicy scent of whom he now knew was Lord Voldemort.

Pain?

Yes, he remembered pain. And fear. And exhaustion. Somewhere in the part of his brain that belonged to the wolf, the insanity brought about by the scent of humans still swirled in dizzy red patterns—but it was all hazy now.

He rubbed his face, and sighed.

"Something up?" James asked, and he shrugged.

"Just wishing I could remember more." James smiled, one of those warm smiles that created a dimple in his right cheek.

"There's only one thing you have to remember from this all," he said, and patted his friend's shoulder. "You saved our lives. And if you hadn't been a werewolf, we wouldn't have found out about Cynthia's betrayal."

"Then Sirius would still be happy."

"He'd still be dating a murderer," James amended. "Jeez, you're as bad as he is. Why don't you try to be positive for a change? You'll find it to be quite refreshing.

"Now, the game seems to be finished. Sirius's still alive and I'm freezing, so I'll go back to the castle."

"I'll come with you."

"I'll wait up for the others," Peter said, and chuckled as he watched James and Remus stagger to their feet. "Need a wheel chair?" Both boys glared at him.

"Peter? Shut up."

Sirius remained painfully cheerful for the rest of the day, but at night James could see the glitter of his open eyes in the darkness. He didn't want to talk, though, because when James whispered his name, the glitter disappeared.

The following day Sirius devoured all the newspapers he could find: the Daily Prophet, the Twilight Zone, and even the Beholder, but none of the papers made any notion of a certain minister gone astray, nor of a young female wizard on the run being caught be the authorities.

"I wonder whether we'll ever know what happened to her," he sighed privately to James when they were having lunch. "I already tried to talk to Dumbledore. He just winked at me. I swear, if he hadn't been such an old man I'd turn him into a frog!"

"Frogs can't talk," James said matter-of-factly. "You wouldn't get much further." Sirius shot him a dirty look, then smiled. James grinned back.

"I'm sure he'll tell you, Padfoot. Relax. The old coot might be a bit odd, but he's got a fabulous sense of justice and compassion. You'll see, you'll be the first to know when Cynthia's captured—or when we have to go and testify against Voldemort."

"Didn't Dumbledore say we wouldn't testify against him?"

"Dumbledore talks a lot," James said airily. He idly transfigured a pencil into cigarette, put it between his lips and lit it with a spark from his wand.

"Er, James?"

"Hmm?"

"This is the great hall, you know."

"Hm?"

"Well, you'd better put that thing out or McGonagall's going to have your head for breakfast, instead of her more usual chicken sandwich."

"Oh shit!" He hastily transfigured it back, stared guiltily at his Transfiguration teacher, who glared back at him with cat-like sparkling eyes. "I keep forgetting I'm not allowed to smoke inside."

Remus, who was sitting next to him, grinned.

"Is your habit finally becoming too much to bear?"

"Oh shut up! You always eat your quills." Remus was not impressed.

"You smoke them. McGonagall frowns on my habits, while she takes points from you for yours. At least I don't transfigure them."

"You use the raw material, you mean?" Remus laughed.

"Something like that." He lifted his bag with a spell, stood up and made a small bow. "Gotta go now. Divination is beckoning."

"You're off your rocker." Sirius muttered. Remus shrugged, face turning serious.

"Don't you want to know what's going to happen in the future?" Sirius blinked.

"What do you mean with that?" he asked, a little bit hoarsely.

"Exactly what you understood. We all know Trelawney is a fraud, but not a complete fraud, otherwise they wouldn't have hired her, right? It'd be just like her to suddenly start spewing the future like a bad fountain. Anyway, I have to go whether I want to or not, so…see you!"  

He turned away and quickly walked out of the hallway, satchel bouncing on his back.

Somehow, the round Divination classroom seemed even more stuffy and misty than before. 

I wonder, does she really think this stink will enhance our psychic abilities?

Remus lazily tapped his fingers against his glass ball, leaving greasy fingerprints all over the shining surface. 

Well, I didn't see a thing to begin with anyway…apart from that bloody moon, of course.

He sighed. Next to him, Sidh Patil sighed as well.

"You know, I've been doing this for four years now," he whispered, "and I still see nothing but my own face stretched all out of shape." Remus shrugged.

"As long as you can convince her that you do see something…"

"I know, I know. But still. I can't help feeling like an idiot."

"Who doesn't, staring at a glass bulb? Then again, I feel like an idiot most of the time, so that changes nothing much."

Sidh chuckled, and Remus went back to staring into his own eyes. One thing was odd about his reflection in the ball: his eyes were always round, when he looked into it, while in ordinary life, in ordinary mirrors, they were almond-shaped. As if the ball reflected the wolf as well as the boy.

Sidh, less occupied with inner demons, nudged his arm.

"What?"

"D'you know what's wrong with the Ravenclaws? They've been awfully quiet today."

"Are they? I hadn't noticed."

"Well, you're awfully quiet as well. But they look positively down. I wonder what's eating them."

I have a hunch. Remus thought, but he said nothing. After all, if Dumbledore had deemed it necessary to tell only the Ravenclaws—as he apparently had, since neither the Slytherins, the Hufflepuffs nor the Gryffindors knew about it—it was their business. As for him, he was still thinking about what Peter and Lily and Sirius had said to him. About killing Cynthia. About his tag. About smelling girls' scents. A sudden hot flush of anger painted his cheeks bright red.

As if I really am nothing more than an animal to them!

"Maybe one of them lost them a lot of points," he said, carefully neutral, and jabbed a fingerprint into one of his round eyes. The sliver of moon inside the glass ball wavered and waxed to a Cheshire Cat smile. And that was all that happened, the whole hour. Trelawney kept silent about the future, although she did tell a lot of things about beating gravity and making a crystal ball float in the air. None of the students were very much impressed, though. After six years of Charms, they were used to much weirder things. Instead of listening to Trelawney drone on about the magnificence of the Other Realm, Remus took to observing the Ravenclaws, who, as Sidh had pointed out, all had an absent look about them.

If this really has to do with Cynthia, Dumbledore must have told them after breakfast. Or during DADA. Maybe I should ask Julie.

He sighed, and wished he could think of a nice prank to pull. But after the past few days his brains were incapable of coming up with something fun to do. Apart from changing Keith Sujet into a crystal ball, of course. But he doubted Sujet the ball would be as shiny and clear as a real ball.

He'd reflect me like a distorted mirror. Remus blinked, a vague, hazy idea rapidly growing clear in his mind.

The Mirror.

*

It was quite dark outside when James flew his Thunderbolt around the castle in search for Sirius. His friend had disappeared after dinner, and while that in itself was not such a unusual thing, with Cynthia gone James thought it wise to make sure he weren't left to his own devices for too long. Fortunately, he had a good hunch were Sirius might be. It was a place they always went to when they wanted to talk, or went to on their own if they wanted to be alone and think.

The Astronomy tower. Sanctuary to snogging couples and restless teenagers. Hiding place to drug-abusing youngsters and prank-devising Marauders.

Flying lazy circles around the tower, James sighed with relief and then chuckled as he saw a small cloud of smoke ascend in the dark sky, looking exaggeratedly white in the shine of someone's wand. As he tipped the crenels, James only had to look around briefly to make out Sirius's windblown mop of hair and the double light source of wand and cigarette. There were not other people—of course there weren't. You'd have to be a penguin to enjoy snogging outside in this weather. He landed, placed his broom against the wall and plunked down beside his friend.

"Evening." Sirius nodded.

"Evening. Cig?"

"Thanks." He lit his cigarette on Sirius's wand tip. "So. D'you want to be alone, or…?" Sirius blew smoke into the air.

"Nah, I'm through with moping on my own."

"Then why'd you come here?"

"If I asked you to come with me to the Astronomy tower you'd have thought I wanted to snog you. No thanks. I lost enough of my self-esteem in the last few days." James smiled faintly.

"I thought you were hopelessly attracted to me." His friend huffed a snort of sarcastic laughter.

"I wish I were. It'd make things a lot easier." He snuffed out his cigarette, hesitated, then shrugged and lit another one. "You know, I've been thinking." 

He barked a laugh. "I've been thinking for a long time, almost non-stop for the last two days. And you know, I still can't figure her out." 

James said nothing, only gave him an encouraging nod.

Spill it, Sirius. Cry again if you have to. I don't mind.

"All the things she did," Sirius continued, slowly this time. "All the things she said. I'm convinced that she didn't lie when she told me that she loved me. And when she noticed that it was us, then, in the Forest—she sounded terrified. But if she loved me, why did she hex me that way? She didn't need to do that. I mean, I know it's nothing compared to what Voldemort did to you, but…it did hurt pretty badly, and a simple silencio would've been enough, right?"

James shrugged. Sirius frowned and blew a circle of smoke.

"What I mean is, I just don't understand. She made a virus that killed most of the magical animals in the Forest, but she cried when she talked about it. And that wasn't faked. Same with Remus. She hated him, but she really did try to heal him, and she wouldn't tell Voldemort his real name. She's protected him from the very beginning, and I just can't understand why. Do you?"

James shook his head.

"Maybe this whole thing's about Remus, not the books or the virus, or you and I being Magids or not. Who knows?" Sirius stared at him, then grinned a lopsided smile and took another drag.

"Do you believe that yourself?"

"No. But you're right, it's a fact that she's been trying to protect him. Although that could be a side-effect of the guilt she must've felt when he became ill."

"But if you feel so guilty about killing animals, why do it? She wasn't a cruel woman. She hated to see creatures suffer—that's why she healed me."

"Unless that whole accident was staged as well," James mused. "After all, Hector was her boyfriend, and a supporter of Voldemort as well."

"No." Sirius savagely shook his head. "No, I refuse to believe that. That doesn't make any sense at all. Why would she have wanted to have me injured?"

"Hell, I don't know," James said, stubbing out his cigarette. "Maybe she just wanted to have sex with you. Some people want that, you know. I know dozens of girls who wouldn't mind pushing you down the stairs simply to be able to play nurse for you. Must be your taste for clothing."

He chuckled as his friend shot him an unfriendly glare. But then he sobered up and patted his shoulder.

"Cynthia's a woman, Sirius. A woman. That weird species that cries when she wants something done. You're not supposed to be able to figure them out; that's their greatest charm."

"I can find damn little charm in this species at the moment." Sirius muttered. "Maybe I should really try to become a fag." He inhaled deeply. James chuckled.

"I don't particularly fancy having a cigarette in my company."

"Very funny."

"Then don't talk nonsense. You know what you're doing? You're sulking, and it's very unbecoming. Especially for a Marauder."

"I have the right to sulk."

"Sure. But you should quit blaming yourself. This whole thing isn't your fault and it never will be. If moping around makes you feel better, by all means go ahead, but don't expect me to say yes and amen to it all." He came to his feet, brushed the bottom of his trousers. "I can respect your sense of loss, betrayal and anger. I can't respect your whining."

"I'm not whining! I'm just…"

"You're trying to find evidence to blame yourself for the whole damn mess. You know, that's one of your weird little traits. When you do something wrong you try to put the blame on other people—any other people! Remus, or Peter, or me, or Snape, everybody but you. But now it's not your fault you insist on blaming yourself. Really, Sirius, you're one weird puppy."

"In a way it is my fault, this whole mess," Sirius said softly. "If I hadn't…"

"No." James slapped his hand on top of a crenel. "It isn't your fault, and I don't want to hear another thing about it."

"But…"

"Shh!"

"James…"

"Hssh!"

"Would you cut this…"

"Silencio!"

A look of disbelief spread over Sirius's face, then changed to raging anger in the blink of an eye. He shot to his feet, shouting soundless curses. James grinned widely.

"Be quiet, Padfoot. And don't look so furious, it's for you own good. Now extinguish that cigarette, no, just do it." Anger changed into curious resignation. Sirius threw his smoke on the ground and smudged it out with his boot. He pushed his hands into his pockets and raised his eyebrows.

Now what, oh mighty teacher?

"How'd you get here? By broom? Or did you walk?"

Sirius made a walking sign with two fingers.

"Okay. Now we can either do it the fun way, that is two man a broom, or we can walk down together."

Broom, pointed Sirius. If there was a fun way, Sirius was resolved to take it, even if it would cost him his life. James smiled.

"That's my man." He accio-ed his broom, climbed on top of the crenels and took it between his legs. "You can piggy-back. Ready? Hold on tight. I'm not sure she can take this….Here we go."

James kicked off and they plummeted down—Sirius mindlessly grasped James around the waist and screamed as soundlessly as James screamed volubly—but halfway down the Thunderbolt's air drive charms finally kicked in and they shot forward instead, hitting a tree on their way down and landing safely, if a little messily, on the freezing ground.

…

James giggled.

"Wow! That was fun, wasn't it?"

Sirius said nothing, although he too was smiling. Smiling in a parch white face, just like James, and shaking a little with reaction.

"You liked it too," James protested as if his friend had complained. "You look much better already. What? Oh, no, I'm not going to take that off yet. First we're going to Hogsmead. I'm buying. And Will and Peter already promised to cover for us in case McGonagall tries to find us."

He scrambled to his feet, beat the rotting leaves from his knees and held out his hand to Sirius, who took it and let himself be pulled to his feet.

Hogsmead? He raised his eyebrows. James grinned.

"I think we could both use a drink, don't you agree?" 

*

"So what did you do after that?" Peter asked as he stared down on Sirius's unconscious body. James shrugged.

"I bought him three glasses of firebrandy, made him drink two and took the hex from his mouth." He rubbed the bridge of his nose and gratefully sipped from his glass of anti-hangover draught.

"Then what?" Remus asked.

"Well, we had a nice talk. About girls. And viruses. And werewolves. And then I bought more brandy, and we talked about brandy. And the weather. And Quidditch. By then I'd run out of money, but thankfully Sirius had some coins on him, so we bought more drinks. I can't remember what. Can't remember much after that point anyway."

Peter laughed.

"You must've had enough presence of mind to outrun Madam Rosmerta. She'd never have let you leave without a good dose of decol potion to sober you up."

"Er…" James coloured, then laughed aloud. "I remember leaving through the window, now that you mention it…" He poked Sirius in the side, but it was like poking a bag of wet cement. No reaction whatsoever.

"Anyway, we made it back to the castle. It must've been around two, I think…"

"Three-ish, rather," Remus said. "At least, it was five past when you finally dragged him in. I looked at the clock when I went back to bed."

"You helped us get in?" James wondered sheepishly. The werewolf grinned.

"Yeah. But no matter. Sirius was out by the time, and you weren't very coherent either."

James huffed, moaned and drunk another bit of draught.

"You wouldn't be coherent either if you'd been lugging him around for countless yards! He passed out somewhere around Hagrid's cottage, I think—can't remember clearly, though. I drunk about half as much as he, but I hardly knew where I was going myself, let alone where I was taking him! We've been so lucky we didn't bump into Filch or Peeves."

"You lugged him around?"

"Yeah."

"Won't you ever learn?" Peter sighed dramatically. "You're a wizard, James. Some people actually expect you to grow into a Magid! And you simply refuse to use spells to transport drunk, unconscious or wounded people. I really don't get you."

"We all…like physical…contact," Sirius slurred from his bed. "Unlike you…you cold, bitchless son of a heart."

Through the sniggers and chuckles, he tried to push himself up straight but didn't succeed and flopped back on his back, groaning.

"James, what the fuck…ddid you feed me…yesterday?" James grinned, hangover forgotten.

"Let's see. There were those first three brandies…then the other two, and then that green mix, and that sickly pink drink. I think you tried to buy more, but Madam Rosmerta told you to put your head under the faucet. I can't remember whether you did that, though.

Why? Do you feel sick?"

"Sick? I'm still drunk, you sstupid git!" 

He made another attempt and almost rolled off his bed, but in the end he sat hunched over on the edge of his bed, head in his hands.

"Everything's spinning…Why on earth did we drink so much?"

"I thought you could do with a bit of forgetfulness."

"Oh, you did?" James generously handed him the beaker with anti-hangover draught.

"Yes, I did. And you can't say we didn't have a nice time."

"I can't say, no, 'cause I can't remember a bloody thing after you took that hex from my mmouth." He drained the beaker in one gulp, shivered and clasped his hands for his mouth.

"Good god, what is this stuff?"

"Medicine." Remus said earnestly. "For your poor, spinning head." Sirius shot him a bloodshot look.

"You were in this complot as well, weren't you?"

"Uhuh. That's why I'm currently not in class, where I should be. Also, I've been brewing potions instead of having breakfast. If Will hadn't brought us a handful of rolls, we never would've pulled it off."

"Why didn't you come with us?" Remus shrugged.

"Because if I had consumed one glass of that brandy I'd be probably feeling like you do, and therefore unable to brew potions on an empty stomach. Besides, James is the only one who can put up with you when you're being an arse, and frankly, I've had enough verbal abuse for this week. So I thought I'd pass.

"Have some more potion. There's plenty more."

"Verbal abuse?" Sirius wondered, handing him the beaker. "What verbal abuse?"

Another airy shrug from Remus as he refilled it with potion.

"Oh nothing. You know, the usual. 'I wish you'd killed Cynthia.' 'I'll let you sniff all my girlfriends in the future.' 'I'll treat you like my fucking dog.' And such. You know." 

He smiled, a smile as strained and fake as Sirius's own had been the past two days.

"Remus…" Sirius started, but the other boy held up his hand in a sharp 'shut up' gesture.

"Sirius, my friend. I am very, very, very angry at the moment. And you know how much I hate being angry. I know you don't mean to hurt me, but you did, and pretty badly too." He took a deep breath, handed the beaker over. "You, and about everybody in this room. Thing is, you can't help it. So I'm trying to regain my composure, as James keeps telling me. Problem is, it's pretty hard to be calm when you're so pissed off.

"God, I HATE being angry!" He stamped on the ground; the potion sloshed over his hand. 

"Calm down then, Moony." Peter muttered, and Remus froze to the ground.

"Does Voldemort know I'm a werewolf?"

Silence. He handed Sirius the half-empty beaker.

"Well? Does he? I mean, I've been thinking this over, and I've come to the conclusion that he must know who I am. Or at least must know that a werewolf resides at Hogwarts.

"So, does he know who I am, or…?"

"He doesn't know," James said softly. "Cynthia never gave him your name, and nor did we. Unless he saw…but no, that's impossible. As far as I know, Voldemort doesn't know who you are. And if he tries to threaten Dumbledore with the presence of a werewolf at Hogwarts…Dumbledore'll hit back. So don't worry. You're safe."

"Why didn't she give him my name?"

Sirius took a deep breath. He took another one, but whatever he tried to accomplish failed, and when he answered his voice was just as angry as Remus's.

"Like we know, Remus! She isn't here to explain, right? Hell, we know just as much as you do, you know, and if that bugs you, well I'm sorry, but I can't help you there. Has it ever occurred to you that we weren't insulting you but congratulating you on your supernatural gifts? I'd think that after these six years you'd know how we think about you, so quit taking everything as an insult, will you? It's a fact that you knew that Cynthia wasn't to be trusted while nobody else did—and it also is a fact, whether you like it or not, that it'd probably been better if you had killed her, not for you, but most certainly for her. Do you know what's going to happen to her when they catch her? She's going to Azkaban, Remus! Azkaban!"

"And why would you care about that?"

"Because I still love her, you stupid, bloody, selfish, self-centred idiot!" Sirius howled. "And whatever she did, no matter why she did it, I can't bear the thought of her going to Azkaban and getting sucked dry by those awful creatures there!" Taking another deep breath, he pressed his lips tightly together.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to be sick."

He stood up and quickly ran out of the door, down the stairs to the lavatories. Tight-faced and equally tight-lipped, Remus walked after him.

"Remus," James called, and shook his head. His friend laughed, mirthlessly.

"I'm not following him. I'm going to my class. You can take care of him. Me, I'm going to do some composure regaining." James sighed.

"Remus, why can't you just…"

"I'll see you at lunch." Remus said tonelessly, and walked out of the door.

Next chapter: the newspaper bit, the birthday, the Mirror and the end.


	34. VIRUS 34 About potions and lycanthropes

Sigh. Every time I think I've handled all the story lines, one pops up in my head and needs to be finished first. So there will be an epilogue. Shit. Ah well. Remus is incredibly cool in this chapter—at least, I think so. He gets angry again, and good too, and finally at the person who deserves it. And this also explains why he gets mad so often after drinking the potion : ) So you see, Zetta, I'm not finished yet. The fic just won't let me go, no matter how I try. CatalinaRose, you can safely read my sequel, because the slash will only be one chapter and you won't need to read it. Besides, they'll still be available afterwards. It's only alcohol, drugs, sunburn and teenage hormones…Alicorn, you spoke about the tapestry. I still have plans with it, but that will happen in the sequel. Avalan! Welcome! Thanks for reading and reviewing. I know Ron says that all bad wizards come from Slytherin. But that's nonsense. I can't believe that the other houses only hold good people. Besides, Cynthia wasn't really bad, just misguided. Okay, she was bad : ) But she isn't evil. And Snape's in Slytherin, and in the books he's as close to a hero as they come, despite his unpleasantness, so…

Okay, for the rest, thanks everybody who reviewed. I miss MorganD, though…pout Enjoy!

34. About potions and lycanthropes

Remus had regained his composure before lunch, that is to say, he was quiet and moody, but his wide mouth was relaxed and he offered Sirius the first chocolate bread roll on the plate, as some kind of peace offering. Which Sirius refused—not because he was still angry, but because he swore to a diet of coffee for now. Unlike Remus, Sirius seldom bore grudges against his friends. Besides, he was too busy fending off Liza Woods to be angry with Remus.

"Nooo…" she groaned, pulling at her hair as she regarded her Beater's pale face. "First James, now you. Why can't you be a little more moderate when it comes to alcohol, Sirius. Please! Have some consideration for my poor soul—tomorrow we're playing Slytherin and you look like a dishcloth! And you!" This to James, who pulled back from his coffee, "You look almost as bad as he does! You won't be able to catch a single Snitch if you keep this up!"

"Relax, schnookums," Sirius waved. "I'll be greater than ever tomorrow."

"And I've never forfeited my greatness in the first place," James added, pouring sugar into his coffee and sipping it with a sigh of relief. "A man has the right to have a hangover once in a while."

"Man!" Liza humphed. "You're still a kid, Potter. And you're an even bigger kid, Black!"

"I'll be seventeen the day after tomorrow."

"Yes? And that proves what? Years count for nothing. Mental age…"

"Proves that you're forty-five or something?" Remus drawled lazily. "Cut us some slack, Liza. James and Sirius'll perform just great tomorrow, you'll see. Even if I have to feed them three doses of Blue Heaven each. Now could you please leave us in peace?"

"I…" Liza began, then squared her shoulders and turned away.

"Blue Heaven?" Peter asked. "Isn't that some kind of Hyper drug?"

"Something like that," Remus agreed, half guilty, half airily. He took a bite from his sandwich, but was hindered by the feeling of eight eyes boring into his neck. He glanced at the four faces staring at him. "What?"

"Do you have Blue Heaven?" Lily asked. "You, the great T-tolaller among us?"

"Well, I obviously haven't got it on me…"

"But you do have it?" Sirius pried. Remus shrugged. 

"Well, yes…" His friend's dark-rimmed eyes began to glitter.

"I never tried…"

"Why on earth do you have Blue Heaven?" James interrupted. "You always said drugs made you sick." Remus swallowed his bread.

"It does. That's why I never used it."

"Then why do you have it?" Another shrug.

"Let's say I came across it one day, and decided to buy some just in case."

Lily giggled.

"And you brought it to school."

"Yes, why not? It's not as if they check my pockets when I come in."

"They only did it last spring," Sirius muttered. "And all they found was a little cannabis."

"Because you smelled like a weed-plant," James laughed. "Even the ghosts noticed. How much did you try to smuggle in again? Three pound?"

"Four…"

They all laughed.

"Well, at least Trelawney had some fun with it," Remus mused. "And me too, I guess. I wouldn't be at all surprised if she used your cannabis for our little look beyond the Veil."

"My guess is you went a long way beyond the Veil," Lily chuckled. "You were stoned completely out of your head. But that still doesn't explain why you've got Blue Heaven."

"Like I said, I came across it one day."

"Where?" demanded Sirius.

"London. Some guy at the Leaky Cauldron. He had a whole bunch of pills and powders, so I thought, let's buy some. I was going to save them for the holidays."

"Was?" Sirius asked hopefully.

"Am." Remus said firmly, and took another sandwich. "Down, Padfoot."

"People keep saying that to me," Sirius muttered petulantly.

*

During Herbology Remus attempted to hear Julie out on the subject of Cynthia, but the girl wouldn't say much.

"Cynthia Catterwall did something…illegal," she whispered as they were transferring Sundew to a bigger pot. "Professor Dumbledore said as much. But I think it's much worse than that. But nobody knows what happened exactly. I don't think she'll come back, though."

You might be right about that, Remus thought, frowning. He suddenly remembered the scent belonging to the man who's face he couldn't remember seeing, but who stared out of the pages of the Daily Prophet almost every day. Voldemort. His scent had been cold and calculating.

Hell. We've all been so sure she'd be caught, but what if he saved her? What if he offered her shelter? Nobody'd ever find her. Then again, why offer her shelter? She's done what he wanted her to do. If I were Voldemort, I'd do away with her. Is that why there's no mention of her in the papers? She's dead already?

"Remus?" He started out of his reverie.

"Yes?"

"Your friend. Sirius. He had something going on with her, didn't he?"

"Yeah…"

"Doesn't he know what happened to her?"

"No, he doesn't. We hoped that the Ravenclaws knew."

"Well, as you can see we don't. At least I don't. You could ask Lizzie Perkins, she's from Cynthia's class, but frankly I don't think anyone knows where she is or what she did." She looked away.

Oh, he **did** tell you what she did, Remus thought.

"The virus?" he said gently, and smiled faintly as the girl's eyes grew wide with shock and fear.

"You know…" she whispered.

"I almost died of it, didn't I?" Julie frowned.

"You? The virus? I thought you had pneumonia."

Oops.

"Or…was it the virus? Remus?"

He stood there with his smile frozen on his face, attempting to look calm and at ease.

"It was…it was…something like that."

And then Julie did something that made his heart beat in his throat like a drum. She touched her muddy fingers to his wrist, there where the scars of his teeth formed pink stripes on his white skin.

"Remus, what are you exactly?" He pulled back as if she'd stung him.

"What I am? Me? Just a boy. Why?"

Then, with a rush so strong it made his chest ache, the accusing, upbraiding voice of the man from the Werewolf Registry, the voice that had taught him that he was a monster and lashed out at him occasionally, screamed into his head:

Because you behave as if you have a secret, Remus, a bloody big secret that sounds like, for instance, lycanthropy, and everybody knows that werewolves are killers—and you know, Remus, if you had the virus, and Cynthia made it, that explains why she's gone, isn't it? If you're a werewolf…

A whole new range of terrible allegations spread like a fungus in Remus's over-imaginative mind and made the vague swirling presence in the back of his head grow with inhuman fury. A thin film of sweat popped out all over his body; he felt the blood drain from his face.

"Why…why d'you ask?"

Julie hesitated, a little put off by his sudden pallor, then smiled. Her fingers left the place where they hung in the air and briefly caressed his jaw.

"Because I care about you." 

He blinked, surprised. He had expected accusations. She grinned.

"Don't look so surprised. I do, you know. I thought I made that clear when you were ill. And if you're infected with the virus…" she slanted her head. "Even if that means that you're different…that doesn't change anything about my feelings.

"Although I do wish you'd trust me."

He sighed.

"It's not that easy. And I do trust you. It's just…" Julie shook her head.

"It's okay. I don't mind. If you really are different, I guess you wouldn't go screaming so about. Just as long as you know that…I don't mind. I don't care." She had gone as red as he had turned white by now, and bit her lip, trying to keep her dignity. Lumps of earth scattered beneath her fingers. But then she looked up, still red but with a mischievous sparkle in her eyes. 

"Say," she said, "tomorrow it's Gryffindor against Slytherin. So would you mind….er, I mean…"

"Date tomorrow?" Remus grinned. For the first time in days, all the lights inside his head lit up like Christmas candles. "You're on."

"And do try not to become ill again." Julie said. Remus grinned wider.

"Ah well. You could always come by and feed me oranges."

*

"Still nothing in the paper?" James asked that evening as they, Lily, Peter, Remus, Sirius and he were sitting in front of the hearth doing their homework. Sirius shook his head.

"No. But there is something interesting, though. Remus, here."

Remus looked up from his History book, arched his eyebrows, accepted the paper and scanned the page.

"What?" Sirius pointed.

"The third small column on the left."

"Potion proves poison?"

"Yup, that one."

Obediently, Remus began to read. 

Yesterday afternoon, a tragedy occurred at Midgington. After several days of wasting illness, the much beloved Antonius Donahue finally departed, leaving a grieving widow and a seven year old son. Donahue had become ill after testing, for one and a half years now, a newly invented potion which is the promising new cure for…

"Lycanthropy." he whispered. Him saying this forbidden word aloud—even though the only other Gryffindor present was just shoving her quills into her bag—drew the attention of all other Marauders. For the second time that day he felt all colour leaving his face.

"Read on," Sirius said. "And tell me what you think about it."

Donahue has been a Lycanthrope since his adolescence, but his openness about the curse has made him a popular man nonetheless. At several occasions, Donahue volunteered to test new charms and potions invented to dispel the curse. The potion that finally killed him was based on wolfsbane, silver-nitrate and nightshade. While appearing effective in the beginning, the potion evidently proved lethal for the much lamented werewolf. Autopsy established…

"Autopsy established that the dead man's immune system was so weakened that a light influenza virus turned fatal. Apart from this as of yet unknown side effect, it was known that the potion affected the subject's mind, damaging the frontal lobes." he said hoarsely. The paper crackled and finally ripped in his quivering fingers.

"Dorkham." An anger so all-encompassing and violent that everything he had felt until now seemed nothing but mild irritation began to pulse thought his body. "Dorkham made that potion. His brother in law was a werewolf. Donahue, that must be…" His voice trailed off. A red haze flickered in front of his eyes, obscuring the anxious faces around him.

"Dorkham…he's been…quiet, these last few days, hasn't he?" The words gritted out of his mouth like stones. A taste like metal coated his tongue—the taste of blood and insanity.

Oh yes, he's been quiet. Almost worried. And uncommonly kind to all boys who looked like they'd been ill…

"Remus." someone said, but he didn't even listen. Visions of blood and broken bones—his own blood, his own broken bones—danced in front of his eyes, spinning in the darkening swirl of his emotions.

"Remus."

He saw his own palm, spotted bright red with blood…Severus Snape's expression of triumph and pity…Sirius's parch-white face…Cynthia's corn-blue eyes filled with fear and guilt…

Hands shook his shoulders, pulled the newspaper out of his twitching fingers. He noticed none of it, only thought, He did it. He's the cause for all of this. All of it! I wouldn't have gotten ill if he hadn't given me the potion…wouldn't have hated Cynthia…wouldn't have to hurt people… wouldn't have **snapped** like I did…

"For God's sake, snap out of it, man!"

"He's lost it. James, he's lost it!"

"That utter…bastard." Remus panted, shaking with barely controlled rage. "That unspeakable… self-assured …murdering son of a bitch!"

He shot to his feet, brain already busy beating the old Potion teacher to pulp, but as he did, three boys and one girl launched themselves at him and he went down with a howl of fury.

"Let me GO! I'll kill him, I'll fucking KILL him, I'll rip his heart out, murdering bastard!" he shrieked, tearing at the arms that held him fast. "Let me go! LET GOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!" 

His voice went up in a disconcertingly animalistic way, and James and Sirius shot each other a look. Then James nodded.

Sirius nodded back. He was holding Remus's left arm immobile, partly by pushing it to the ground and partly by sitting on it—and still the arm was moving. The boy's thin body was arching and twisting like, clichés be damned, a trapped wolf's, and he was terribly strong.

"Sorry mate," Sirius said, and punched Remus as hard as he could on the chin.

*

(several minutes later)

"I really am sorry," Sirius said, rubbing his sore knuckles. "I didn't mean to hurt you, but you were…you were bloody scary, mate."

"You could have stunned me," Remus said with tired reproach, and pressed a wet washing cloth against the swelling lump on the back of his head, where he had hit the floor when Sirius sucker-punched him. He winced as Lily pressed her fingers against his chin.

"Ow."

"Don't be such a baby, Remus. It's only a bruise, and if I treat it now you won't even see it. Besides, Sirius's right. You were scary. We needed both our arms to keep you on the ground, not even I could've reached my wand and stunned you—and I was only holding on to your leg! Now hold still."

"You really are pretty strong, you know!" Peter piped up as Lily did her thing. Whatever she did, it helped better than when she tried her medical power on Sirius's knee. The red swelling immediately all but disappeared.

"I mean, I was bumping up and down—it was like riding one of those fake-bulls at a festival."

"So glad I gave you a good time." Remus muttered, but it was without rancour. The anger was gone, stowed back into the recesses of his mind, way back inside the presence called Moony. And when James burst into laughter, he smiled as well. But he didn't apologise, as he would usually do for any abnormal behaviour.

"Still," he continued, tentatively rubbing his chin, "I need to speak to Dorkham. And with McGonagall. Hell, with Dumbledore as well. They all agreed to give me this potion, and look where it got me! Look where it got that poor sob of a Donahue."

"It might, of course," James offered, "be another potion." Remus shook his head.

"No. This is Dorkham's potion. I'm sure of it. Because…"

"Could you duck your head so I can have a look at that lump?" Lily interrupted, and he did as she asked.

"Because that's what it—ow!—did with me too. It—ouch!—weakened my re—Lily!"

"Ugly bruise," Lily murmured unperturbedly, gently touching his pigeon's egg. "No wonder it knocked you clean out." A wry smile twisted Remus's mouth.

"Impressive, Sirius." Sirius smirked.

"You're welcome. So when are you going to have your little chat with Dorkham? Right now?"

"I don't think so," both Lily and Remus replied, and the latter gave a hiss of pain as the girl pressed her wand against his head. Sirius put his hands in his pockets.

"You do know that if you won't talk to him today, you'll never will, right? I mean, tomorrow we fight Slytherin…"

"And I'll date Julie," Remus added. "I know. But the day after that I'm free to talk to whom I want, and that will be Dorkham. And I'd like to do that on my own."

"What? After your less than controlled reaction? I don't think so." Remus attempted to look rebellious, but with Lily prodding his head, he only managed to look pained.

"Don't worry." Peter patted him on the shoulder. "I'll go with you. Purely as an eye witness. Okay?"

Remus huffed a grin.

"Sure. Sure, Peter."

"Good! Now, now that's settled, James, can you help me with this chart of poisonous plants? I don't understand a thing about this letter system."

*

The following day, Remus and Peter sat next to each other and watched their Team lose from Slytherin. It wasn't James's fault—nobody had ever bested James in the last two years. Neither was it Sirius's fault, or Lily's. The Slytherins simply played like mad, and there was nothing Gryffindor could do about it. And when Dudd Melon, the Slytherin Seeker, wouldn't let himself be diverged from the Snitch's path, James saw no other solution than to catch it himself, which he did.

Gryffindor lost one hundred and eighty to two hundred and forty, which, in itself wasn't such a bad score (as Liza Wood gnashed between her teeth after the game) but it still made Gryffindor feel down. Especially since Slytherin gloated, and Snape, who had been just as quiet as Dorkham the last week, gloated with them. Snape's face was made to gloat.

            After the game, after comforting the players, Remus sought up Julie and took her for a long walk around the lake. There he spent two hours trying to find the courage to tell her that he was a werewolf, but he simply couldn't get it out of his mouth. Julie, however, didn't seem to mind. She effortlessly filled his silence with soothing small-talk, finally kissed him behind one of the huge oak trees, and once he stopped trying to tell her his secret, he actually had a very good time.

That evening, not the following day, he walked all the way down to the dungeons, where Dorkham was still skulking around in the cabinet.

"What is it?" he rasped as Remus knocked on the door.

"It's me, Remus Lupin." The piece of paper in his hand rustled as he clenched his fingers. "I would like to talk to you."

"Oh would ye?" the old man sneered, but he pushed two small flasks on the 'bat-ears' shelf and turned around. "Wha' d'ye want ter speak about then, boy?"

The small hairs at the back of Remus's neck rose as if they'd been pulled by static electricity. He clenched his fists even more tightly, digging his nails into his flesh, and regarded the man with unconcealed contempt.

"About Antonius Donahue."

Was that truly a hint of pallor in Dorkham's grey face? He held out the rumpled piece of paper. Dorkham stared at his hand as if it held a dead frog.

"It was in the Daily Prophet, yesterday," Remus explained coolly. "Donahue was your brother in law, wasn't he?"

Oh yes, definitely pallor. Dorkham remained quiet for a few seconds, then nodded.

"How did ye know?"

"I guessed."

"Ye guessed. And wha' do ye want me ter do with yer guess?"

"What I want?" Remus smiled coldly. "An apology, perhaps?"

"And apo…" He blinked, and understanding flushed his lined cheeks. "Yer the boy whose blood Madam Pomfrey wanted me ter examine. It's you!"

"It was me who drunk your potion."

"Of course. An' now ye want ter know…"

"I don't want to know." Remus snapped. "I already do! Because of your potion I caught the virus, and I almost died of it. The potion weakened my healing system—precisely at the point that I was most vulnerable, and enabled the virus to get into my L-cells. You effectively killed all my antibodies with your bloody virus—apart from the fact that I almost lost my mind when I Changed!—and still you claim that you weren't responsible at all. And now look at this!" he held out the clipped out column. "Your brother is dead, I almost died and a lot of people suffered because you refused to acknowledge that your beloved potion's a sham!"

"Now listen, boy," Dorkham growled, but the boy snorted, and if he hadn't been brought up so well he would have spat on the ground in front of the Professor's feet.

"I'll take nothing from you, from now on," he said, staring down his long nose. "Nothing. And I don't care that you are a teacher or that you know what I am. I know what you did. And if the Registry finds out that you tested your as yet uncompleted potion on a school boy, you can kiss your career good-bye."

"You can't…" Dorkham started, but Remus only smiled.

"I can't? Just you find out how I can't. I bet neither Dumbledore nor McGonagall knew that the potion wasn't accepted yet."

Dorkham fell silent. Then he mumbled, "Ten points to Gryffindor." 

Remus laughed aloud, then closely watched the shrewd old man as he, as well, produced the tiniest of smiles. It sat on his face like and alien thing (he looked like a smiling vulture), but it did lend him a little bit of humanity.

"Because ye found out, and came ter me, instead of goin' to the Headmaster," Dorkham clarified. "Not because I'm feelin' repentant." Remus nodded. He hadn't expected otherwise. 

"I don't cheat on people. Which doesn't mean that they don't know." The Potions master shrugged.

"Well. We'll just see wha' happens then, shan't we?" he turned around. "Now get lost, boy. I'm busy."

"Right," Remus said, and walked away, feeling oddly at peace with himself.

Wheee! See you at what hopefully will be the last part. Although after the last three chapters, I can't promise anything anymore…sigh. Byez!


	35. VIRUS 35 Souls and Mirrors: The End

Finally, the last chapter to VIRUS. Sorry it took so long. I've been very busy, and there was a lot I had to tell, so it's a mighty big final chapter. Again, thanks so much for all your reviews! I might have pulled it off without them, but it would have gone soooo much slower, so thanks a lot! Zetta, I got sick and tired of Gryffindor always winning at Quidditch. Let them win with Harry. With James, they can lose once in a while. Sorry, but this really is the last chapter : ) Lunard---bingo! There's another article in this part, and it's boring, but I had to put it in…thanks, you too, for your many reviews! Just wait for the sequel. Lisande, you're just in time to have to wait for the final chapter! : ) Thanks for reviewing and your sweet words. I wish I really were, then I'd have thought up this scene and these characters… I fear lots of evil women like to torture the boys. I'm one. You, obviously are one too! Grin. Go evil women! attempts to shake Sakura Blossom from legs I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'll write a sequel! I'll explain about the tag and make Remus suffer more, okay? : ) You too, thanks for reviewing! Okay, I'm not going to react to MorganD here, because I already sent her an email and the chapter would become six pages longer. Everyone I haven't thanked by name, don't feel left out, please. I read all your reviews (it's almost an addiction, really) and appreciated all of them! Here is the final chapter:

35. Souls and Mirrors; the end.

Even though he had gone to bed late, due to the comfort-booze-up after the Quidditch fiasco the previous day, Sirius Black woke up long before James's Quidditch clock would have struck a quarter past seven. At first he didn't know why he had woken, lay blinking sleepily in the darkness, but then he thought he heard something and peeked through the slit between his bed curtains. It took some time until his eyes decided to focus, but what he saw then made him smile. A small figure stood on tip-toe near Remus's bed, a roll of paper beneath one arm, long nose thrust between the boy's curtains, simply observing him and pulling his bedspread straight. A house elf. Libby, to be exact.

Figures, Sirius thought affectionately. Leave it to Remus to find a house elf to look after him. He did wonder what Libby was doing here, but a hint of an idea crept into his mind as the elf left Remus after a final pat, turning to Sirius. His huge green eyes reflected what little light there was back like torches. In that light, Sirius froze like a rabbit—or a discovered Marauder, and Libby froze with him.

"S-Sirius Black is awake!" the elf squeaked. He sank to his knees. "Please forgive Libby! He didn't mean to wake you!"

"Sssh!" Sirius hissed. "Keep it down! You didn't wake me."(a small lie for Libby's peace of mind) "I was awake already." 

Libby was still tear-eyed. Sirius sighed.

"It's my birthday today."

The tears miraculously dried, and a huge banana-grin split the creature's gnarled face.

"Your birthday?" Sirius tried to keep from wincing. Libby looked as bad smiling as Dorkham did.

"Yeah, my birthday. I'm seventeen now."

"Shall Libby bake you a cake? Especially for Sirius Black? For your birthday?—oh, Libby almost forgot. Great Wizard wants you to have this." He held out the roll of paper. "He told me to make sure you got it, so Libby…Libby is very sorry you had to see him, sir."

Sirius accepted the paper, frowning a little.

"That's okay. But who's this Great Wizard? Dumbledore?" Libby bowed and nodded like a puppet on a string.

"Yes, yes, Albus Dumbledore. Great Wizard. Always so kind to Libby…always finding him errands to run."

"Yes, he's a great chap, isn't he?" Sirius muttered distractedly. The roll of paper felt like a newspaper—the early edition of the Daily Prophet perhaps, or some other paper. He had a vague idea why Dumbledore would want to send him a paper before breakfast—problem was, that idea filled him with dread.

I'll read it later, he decided, and thanked Libby. The house elf bowed again, smiled, and disappeared.

And Sirius lay awake, staring at the cloth of his four poster. Thinking about the paper, which seemed to shriek shrilly on his night stand.

Today I've become 17 years old, he told himself. Old enough to apply for official functions. Old enough to vote for the Ministry. Old enough to…Blast it, I need to know!

Creeping out of bed he quickly struggled into his jeans, sweater and shoes, flung his robes over his shoulder, grabbed his wand and the newspaper and silently made for the door. Of course he could make a light there in the hallway, or down in the common room, but somehow he was convinced that he needed a place more secure to read what Dumbledore had sent him, than here. The Fat Lady didn't even wake up as he pushed open her portrait. The castle was eerily silent, and for one moment he wished he had taken James with him, or at least the safety of the Invisibility Cloak, but then he clenched his jaws together and jogged doggedly down the stairs, and then past the statue gallery to the left wing of the castle, out of the small door on the side, over the grassy path along the Quidditch pitch, straight to the Astronomy tower. It was locked, of course, but a simple alohomora took care of that, and a few minutes later he dropped down behind one of the stethoscopes. Once there, he took some time to catch his breath and gather mental strength before lighting his wand and gazing at the now-unrolled paper. 

It wasn't the Daily Prophet. It wasn't a newspaper at all, he thought. At least none he knew of. It was titled the O. P. Judicial Bulletin, and the O looked as if it were wreathed in flames, while the P seemed as if it were flying out of those flames, like a bird. The image made him feel vaguely disquieted.

Never mind that, mate. Read the bloody story.

He scanned the first page, but found nothing interesting (a man he didn't know had been accused and found guilty of illegally transforming muggle money into wizarding money; a madwoman had been fined for memory charming muggles—so many and such strong memory charms that now twenty eight muggles had been taken to Saint Mungo's to be un-charmed because they kept crying for their mummies; and a wizard had been convicted for illegally breeding hippogriffs in his backyard), so he skipped to the second page. And there it was, the news, covering the entire page, the first word alone like a fist of ice in his stomach.

AZKABAN

Sirius did the bravest thing he had done in years. He read on.

Yesterday, the much-discussed Cynthia C. stood trial for the Grand Jury, a mere six hours after her arrest near the outskirts of Hogwarts. C., a seventh year student of Hogwarts, has been accused of creating a killer virus that has exterminated a large part of the Hogwarts Forest wildlife; as well as the theft of one or more books from the recently recovered section of Saint Mungo's library. She has been found guilty on the first subject. The second, due to lack of evidence, could not be proven.

            The trial was, in all aspects, an odd one. Firstly because of the accused's young age, and secondly because of her defence. Miss C. possesses, situated on her right forearm, a symbol known as a 'Mark', which is a charm which links the wearer with the caster, who has a likewise charm. This Mark can only be cast by high-ranking wizards, and has always been considered Dark Magic. It is forbidden to cast the Mark-spell in Britain, especially on those not yet fully out of adolescence. When asked who gave her the Mark, Miss C. replied that she could not tell and no one could make her.  Attempts to make her reveal the caster indeed had nil result. When accused of letting loose a killer virus on the populace of the Hogwarts Forest, Miss C. confessed immediately. However, she could not or would not answer why she had done so. Again, spells cast on her to make her tell the truth, were nullified. A.D., chairman, suggested that this unusual reaction was the effect of the Mark. D. posed the following theory.

What came next was the short version of what James had thought up, that night when they had been sitting in Dumbledore's bedroom. That Voldemort had instructed Cynthia, the last Mungoon on earth, to make a virus to test her, and to give her an opportunity to go to Saint Mungo's and there steal the book on Immortality. The only exception was that A.D. never mentioned Voldemort's name. To protect him, Sirius, and James, probably, Sirius mused, but at that moment he only felt angry. Angry, and sickened, and hurt, especially as he read on.

The theory was noted, but the accused refused, or was unable to comment on it. A.D. further more spoke up for C.'s youth and the doubtless influence of a more powerful wizard through the Mark, claiming that Cynthia C. had been used as a pawn in a much larger game. R.V., counsellor, agreed that it was unlikely that the accused had thought out such an elaborate scheme on her own, but since she refused to name her partner(s) in crime, he decided to try her on the crime alone. Miss C. was found guilty and convicted to 20 years in Azkaban.

Sirius took a deep breath, and read the last sentence again.

Miss C. was found guilty and convicted to 20 years in Azkaban.

He rubbed a hand through his hair, upsetting the thick mass until it stuck up just as wildly as James's mane.

20 years in Azkaban. Oh fuck, Cynthia…20 years! They can't…they can't do that! She'd die!

-As Remus would have done, a small voice in the back of his head spoke up. If Snape hadn't found a cure. Like all the animals. Remember the unicorn?

But still, Remus was still alive, and the animals were long buried. And he'd known Cynthia—hell, he'd loved her. He still did, in a twisted, painful kind of way. The thought that she would be locked away in that hell…he couldn't bear it. Somehow, he still refused to see Cynthia as a bad person. The whole story about her family and her aunt Mercy made him belief that she had been tricked; used, as Dumbledore himself had said. And twenty years…that was longer than he had been alive so far! 

"No," he said aloud, and pushed himself to his feet. "No, I won't accept this. Okay, she's been a bad girl, and she deserves to be punished, but twenty bloody years in Azkaban! And Voldemort not so much as a scratch! No way I'm going to let this happen."

"What were you planning to do?" a soft voice came from the darkness, startling him half to death. "Testify, yourself?"

Sirius whipped around; wand light bounced off of spectacles and a single shining button. He unconsciously pressed the hand holding the O.P. Bulletin against his chest.

"James! You…you scared the hell out of me." James cracked a smile, and let the Invisibility Cloak slide from his shoulders.

"Sorry. Habit. I woke up when you left, and when you didn't come back after ten minutes I decided to check whether you were okay." The smile wavered. "After Remus, you know…."

"I'm fine." James smirked.

"I can see that. You're standing on top of the Astronomy tower in pitchy darkness, waving a newspaper around and talking to yourself. Moment I saw that, I knew I could go back to bed."

Despite himself, Sirius barked out a laugh.

"However," James continued, walking up to his friend and hopping between two crenels, "I choose to remain here. That the paper?"

"No. I mean, yes, it's a paper, but it isn't a newspaper. It's some sort of judicial news letter. Libby brought it. Dumbledore'd told him to."

"News about Cynthia?" Sirius nodded.

"They caught her. James, they've sentenced her to Azkaban—for twenty bloody years! Twenty years, James! And the Mark obviously prevented her to name Voldemort as an accomplice. She's taking all the blame herself." James dangled his legs, peering at him from the corners of his eyes.

"And you want to go to court and tell the judges that Voldemort's behind all this?"

His friend said nothing.

"It won't work, you know. Otherwise, Dumbledore'd already accused him. The fact that he hasn't…"

"Will result in Cynthia going to Azkaban for twenty years."

"Which she deserves." James stated flatly. Sirius stared at him, totally flabbergasted.

"What…did you say?"

"She deserves to go to Azkaban," the more slender boy repeated. He kicked his heels against the wall. "And I'll tell you why."

"That's nonsense," Sirius interrupted angrily. "She may have committed a crime, but to punish it so severely…"

"Not one crime, Padfoot." James said softly. "Loads of crimes. First the virus, later that incident in the hospital…"

"They couldn't prove that."

"But we know that she must have done it. Christ, think with your head for a change, will you? This isn't just your love interest Cynthia we're talking about, it's a cold-blooded murderer who wanted to become immortal! Her virus almost killed Remus, and who knows what else it might have done if we hadn't found a cure! And delivering a spell of immortality to an egomaniac who wants to rid the world of muggle-born wizards…what was she thinking!?"

"He…"

"And don't even start about Voldemort using Cynthia," James snapped, as usual all but reading his friend's mind. "Remember what Dumbledore told us about the Mark? It only works properly if you allow the other person to place it. Snape didn't want one, right? So, if Voldemort has so much power, why not force one on him? Because it doesn't work as well if it's done forcefully." He took a calming breath, looked Sirius straight in the eye.

"Cynthia willingly took responsibility for everything she did when she accepted the Mark. She must have known that, if she got caught, she would be on her own. That that was the price for immortality."

"A terrible price to pay if you haven't got the prize yet, isn't it?" Sirius said harshly. "There's no way Voldemort could have cast that spell on her yet." James shrugged.

"I actually think it's quite fitting."

"So you're not sorry for her at all."

"Of course I feel sorry for her. And I'm pissed off at Voldemort getting away unscathed. But I don't particularly feel like intervening, and I don't think that you should try to do so either." Sirius thrust his fists into his pockets.

"Then what do you think I should do? Send her a postcard?" James smiled, and immediately tried to hide it. Sometimes, he thought his sense of humour might cost him his best friends—but luckily Sirius was just as bad as he was, and the left corner of his mouth twitched slightly as he, as well, could not help but appreciate his own quip.

"No," James murmured. "I don't think she'd appreciate a postcard. And it wouldn't do you much good writing one. Just…try to come to terms with it. Try to forgive her and at the same time accept that she isn't the cute helpless girl you insist she must be. Because she isn't, and you'll only tear yourself up if you keep defending her.

"Hell, Sirius, I don't know. I could memory charm you, if you want. You make me talk like the bloody town's vicar! Why couldn't you keep hating her? It was much easier to talk you into forgiving her than trying to make you stop blabbing on about how unjust this all is to her."

"Love's a very strange thing."

"Yeah, it has all the symptoms of a virus. And we've had enough of those." Sirius winced, and fought a smile.

"You're bad, Jamie. That was a really nasty remark." James shrugged.

"You taught me. I used to be so nice and civilised. Your despicable influence completely spoiled me.

"Which reminds me. Happy birthday."

He pulled a square package out of his pocket and pressed it into Sirius's hands, deftly taking the Bulletin away from him and hiding it in his sleeve.

"What's this, then?"

"Your birthday present. I'd like one, if you don't mind."

He watched his friend unwrap the package, which fell apart into seven small packs.

"Cigarettes?" Sirius murmured. James clacked his tongue.

"Yes, cigs, but not your ordinary everyday cancer sticks. This, my friend, is the latest invention of Zonko's. That's why I bought so many of them; they'll probably be taken out of the shops in no time."

"'Zonko's multromorphial cigarettes'," Sirius read from one of the packs. "Create all you ever wanted to see simply by blowing out smoke." He smiled. "Thanks. Just what I needed to forget the terrible fate of my ex. Have you tried them out yet?" James shook his head.

"I only bought them yesterday. I was just in time; there was a real rush on it. If I hadn't used the underground passage I'd never been there in time. Come to think of it, if I hadn't used the passage I'd never have come to Hogsmeade, so…but you like them? Personally, I'm dying to try one out right now—but they're your present, so if you want to be a mean bastard and save them all, it's your right to do so."

In the end, they sat up there on the Astronomy tower until seven, smoking multromorphial cigarettes and creating the weirdest things in the air, dramatically lighting them with their wands. Cows, flying elephants, Dorkham in a tutu, Professor McGonagall in high leather boots, body stocking and a whip, a whole team of Quidditch players and several other things drifted in the sky, towards the slowly lightening horizon. 

"I'm going down," James finally said, extinguishing his last cigarette. "Take a shower and get warm before breakfast. You coming too?"

"Soon as I smoked this one up," Sirius nodded, gesturing with his almost-finished fag. "You go on ahead and find me a towel." James grinned.

"Sure." He made to turn around, but his friend's voice called him back.

"Jamie?"

"Hm?"

"Thanks."

"You're welcome. Always."

He gathered his Invisibility Cloak, shot Sirius a last smile and quickly descended the stairs. Sirius stood up as well. He brought the cigarette to his mouth, inhaled deeply, and closed his eyes. He held his breath until his lungs began to ache, then exhaled. A smoky pale image of a girl with long hair spread her arms and flew into the sky. Sirius coughed.

I really should try to quit, he thought ambiguously. Now, where's that bulletin?

He searched for a minute, but couldn't find it and concluded that James, somehow, had stolen it. Ah well. It was probably for the best as well. He stretched, yawned, and followed James down the stairs.

As he stood in the shower, Sirius felt odd, as if he were living in a play, instead of interacting with people who were just as clueless about life and the future as he was.

Is this the after effect of losing your innocence? he wondered, rubbing his hair dry. This feeling of estrangement, of not-belonging here? But then he laughed at himself. He had lost his innocence say, a year ago, when he'd purposefully had attempted to kill one of his fellow students. Or maybe shortly afterwards, when Remus told him to get out of his sight before he tore his throat out. Or maybe even years before that, when he first saw Azkaban.

Or maybe this is only the after effect of too little sleep, too much booze and too many cigarettes. Probably. The romantic inside of him preferred the lost innocence.

            When he returned to the bedroom, Peter and Will both gave him presents (a book on rare creatures and where to find them—with a map; and a Weaver record) and hugged him, before speeding downstairs for breakfast. Remus was nowhere to be seen.

"Do you know where he is?" James shook his head.

"He was already gone when I came back. We'll probably see him at breakfast."

            They did see him, but only at the very end when everybody was already packing their bags to set off for class. He came running in, launched himself at the table and managed to salvage two rolls before the food disappeared.

"Remus! Where've you been?"

"Oh, you know…" Remus replied vaguely. He stuffed the rolls into his mouth, effectively shutting himself up, and made a wide gesture at the hall. "Awowm."

"Come again?"

"I think he said 'around'." Lily provided. Remus touched his nose with the index finger of his left hand, pointing at her with the index finger of his right. Peter raised his eyebrows.

"What on earth are you doing 'around' before breakfast? I didn't even know you could think before breakfast." Remus shrugged. Then he slapped his hand against his forehead, muttered something that could be 'happy birthday' to Sirius (it sounded like 'hukky muhfey'), picked up his bag and ran away again.

"It really is scary when he does that, isn't it?" Peter mused. "Do you think he's actually a quiet user? That he takes Blue Heaven behind our backs?"

"I don't think so." James said. "As far as I know, he doesn't do drugs. W…er, metabolism and stuff, you know."

"He could have said that just to mislead us."

James sighed. Lily sighed. Sirius grinned, patted the smaller boy on the shoulder and said,

"Peter? Shut up."

They all left for Care of Magical Creatures, which, with the virus beaten, had been taken up in the curriculum once more.

When they met up again for Charms, Remus had his mouth empty and grinned widely when he saw his fellow Marauders.

"Hello. Did you have fun with those spiky newts?"

"Those were mud-dragons, thank you very much," Sirius said, sucking on a puncture wound in his hand. "And yes, they were great fun. Fast critters. It only bit me, but you should've seen what it did with Hickson from Ravenclaw. He looked like a hedgehog."

"Sounds like fun indeed. Oh. Happy birthday."

He handed Sirius a small, flat package, about as big as a cigarette case.

"More Zonko's?"

"Zonko's?" Remus frowned. "No, this isn't from Zonko's. Although I'm quite sure you'll have just as much fun with this as with anything from Zonko's." 

Flitwick called them in, then, so they had to halt their conversation, but Remus sat down next to Sirius to catch his reaction as his friend opened his present. He did this discreetly beneath the desk, making the wrapping paper disappear with a charm learned in this very room. He usually used the spell to accelerate the undressing of girls. In his palm now lay a small, flat box of a dull grey material.

"What on earth is this?" he whispered. Remus smiled

"Open it." Sirius opened the box. Looked at the contents. And then he gazed at Remus with wide eyes and a guffaw climbing up his throat. Remus grinned back.

"Is this really what I think it is?"

"I hope so," Remus whispered back. "It took me quite a while to collect them. Of course…"

"Mister Lupin? Would you mind showing how the spell is performed?" Professor Flitwick asked, a hint of vindictiveness in his voice. He pointed at a large, empty carafe in front of him.

"Water-creation spell. Aquarite concretio," Lily murmured from behind him.

"Certainly, sir," Remus beamed, and filled Flitwick's carafe to the brim, without spilling a drop.

"Of course," he went on to Sirius, "I can't be sure they're of good quality. I haven't tried out any of them. It'd severely screw my head up, so…"

"And this is Blue Heaven?" Sirius pointed at three small light blue pills lying between a rainbow of other pills.

"Yeah. The green ones are Green fury, those are Purple passion—I thought you'd like those, though I really don't know what exactly they do—, those are relaxants, those are some kind of morphine, I think…"

"And the black ones?"

"Mister Black? Could you please repeat what I just said?" Professor Flitwick said, a trifle snappishly.

"He said that water-creation spells can save your life in the desert provided that there is enough moisture in the air to let you conjure water and that the static field over the Nairobi desert disables the spell." Lily murmured from behind Remus, and Sirius repeated it flawlessly. Flitwick sighed.

"What do the black ones do?"

"They make you sleep, I think. I really don't know. Just don't take them on your own before you know what they do—and otherwise make sure someone's near you, so if you accidentally overdose they can help you."

"I will! And thanks!"

"That's okay. Ummm," he bit on the tip of his quill.

"What?"

"I wanted to ask you something."

"Hm?"

"Would you…I mean…oh, never mind."

"What?"

"The Mirror. I…I want to go see it. And I thought you might like to come with me."

"The Mirror of Erised?"

"Yes."

"Mister Lupin?" Flitwick whined. Remus frowned, and repressed the urge to shout "Could you keep it down, I'm having a conversation here, you midget!"

"Yes sir?"

"What are you conferring about with mister Black?"

"Your charms, sir." Sirius cut in smoothly, and snapped the little box closed. "We were wondering whether we'd be able to lift that static field above the Nairobi desert."

"Oh," Flitwick said faintly. The Marauders grinned.

"Oh sure," Sirius said. "I'll go with you."

"Great," Remus said, and they finally concentrated on their charms.

*

"Let's go during Potions," Remus suggested, as they walked out of the Charms classroom. "Dorkham won't miss us anyway."

Sirius blinked.

"What makes me think that you already had your little chat with Dorkham?" Remus shot him a rather wicked grin.

"I don't know, but whatever it is, it's right."

"You talked to him?"

"Yes."

"And?"

Remus shrugged.

"Well, let's say that I don't think he'd bother me anymore. Until he resigns or gets sacked."

"You blackmailed him?" Sirius asked with more than a little awe. Himself, he considered capable of blackmail. Remus, he did not. But then, his friend had changed quite a lot these last two months—and since Dorkham was the cause of it, he thought it only just that said teacher was Remus's first victim. But still, to outright skip classes…

"I don't know, Moony. I really need to crank up my marks for Potions…"

"Chickening out?" Sirius frowned, piqued.

"Of course not!"

"Then come with me during Potions. I promise you won't get detention."

For one moment Sirius hesitated, then he nodded.

"Okay. But do you know where the Mirror is? I mean, Dumbledore probably moved it after my little stunt—if he didn't lock it away for good."

"He didn't lock it away." Remus hoisted his satchel into a more comfortable position. "He just brought it to another room. I found it this morning, that's why I was late."

"You found it? Why do you want me with you, then? Finding the thing is the biggest part of the fun!"

Remus shrugged again.

"I didn't look into it yet."

"You chickened out?"

Remus laughed.

"Something like that. So. Are you coming or not?"

"Right now?"

"We do have Potions now, don't we?"

"Yes…."

"So come on, then. The others can make up an excuse for us."

"Shouldn't we tell them what we're doing."

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I want to go there with you, and not with the whole lot of them. So come on, Sirius."

"Alright then."

The Mirror now stood in an empty classroom much like the previous room, on the third floor. Somehow, Sirius thought it had grown bigger. The clawed feet seemed to tap their nails on the floor, and the surface flashed bright silver in the few rays of light coming in from the window on the far side of the room. The moment they had entered that room, the play and banter they'd kept up all the way to the third floor melted away like snow; Remus pulled up his shoulders, and Sirius balled his hands to fists inside his pockets.

"We're here," he said pointlessly.

"Yes." Remus agreed. He took a deep breath.

"Me first, I guess." 

First? Sirius wondered, but then he smiled to himself. Of course Remus first. Not to look into the Mirror while he was here was unthinkable. Even though he was scared to death of what the thing might do to him after what he had done to it.

"Okay," he said. "Go ahead."

Remus nodded tightly, straightened his back and walked to the Mirror of Erised. He opened his eyes wide, far wider than was necessary, and looked into it. From where he was standing, Sirius couldn't see his face or even his profile, but it seemed to him that once he'd looked into the Mirror, Remus's tense figure relaxed a little.

"Is it…is it okay?" The werewolf nodded, slowly.

"Yeah…Amazing, isn't it? This Mirror?" A laugh bubbled up in his voice, but bled away before it could become more than a smile. He turned around, walked back.

"Your turn."

"I'm not sure I should do this."

"Don't be an ass. Of course you should look into the Mirror. You of all people." Something, maybe fear, maybe excitement, stirred in Sirius's stomach.

"What do you mean by that?"

Remus looked away; one of his eyes was almost gold in the light from the window, the other was nearly black, part of  the pupil reflecting green.

"They caught her, didn't they?"

How do you know? Flashed inside Sirius's head, but his friend already explained.

"I could smell it on you. And…I saw that O.P. Bulletin. When I went back to get your present. Did you give it to James? He must have lost it when he got dressed. I found it lying under his chair. I thought it was my Palmistry essay," he added apologetically. Sirius said nothing, not knowing whether to feel relieved that Remus knew, or uncomfortable.

"I didn't mean to pry," Remus said softly. "It's just…I thought you should know that I knew. And I think you should look into the Mirror."

"What did you see?"

"After you've taken a look as well." A hint of irritation darkened the other boy's eyes.

"Alright already. Jeesh!" He took a few steps forward and placed himself squarely in front of the Mirror, gazed into it, daring it to curse him again. The Mirror did no such thing. It just showed him—him, and Remus, standing just behind him, and James, holding hands with Lily, and Peter, and…

"What do you see?"

"Me." Sirius touched the glass with his fingers, almost caressing it. He wasn't caressing his own image, however. "And you. And James, and Peter, Lily."

"And Cynthia?" Remus asked softly. His friend stiffened, then nodded, his shoulders sagging a little.

"Yes. Cynthia as well. Same as the last time. She's…older. But she is there, still…"

"You sound as though you're sorry to see her there." One corner of Sirius's mouth quirked up.

"Ah well, you know, after everything she's done…"

"Sirius."

He felt Remus's hand clasp his shoulder, and when he looked in the Mirror, he saw the boy that was Remus step out of the background and come to stand next to him, just as the real Remus had just done.

"Why do you think she's still there?"

"Because…because I still love her. Or at least want her. I think." He shrugged. "I don't know. She never really belonged to our little group, not like Lily does. But…" He sighed. "I really did love her. And I…wanted to protect her. Isn't that what a man wants to do? Protect his woman? I wanted to do that, even though she didn't need me. But…"

"Isn't she in the Mirror because you wished she hadn't done what she did?" Sirius shrugged.

"Maybe. Although I'm afraid it's a lot less…nice." He stared into the shining eyes of Remus's reflection. "Why else would I only see her as a woman about ten years older than I am now? I wanted her to be there, Remus. When I was ready to commit myself to her. Otherwise she'd stand next to us, wouldn't she?

"It's odd," he pushed his hands into his pockets. "Even though I loved her I wouldn't ever have left the Marauders for her. Not if she'd make me choose. But I did love her, and I did want to protect her, even when I found out what she'd done. Reading about that sentence in that paper—hell, I thought I'd be sick. Even after all she's done."

Remus patted his shoulder.

"Hey. Don't get emotional, that's my business. Besides…In these past years I've bitten you, hit you a concussion, shouted at you and changed you into a grasshopper. Not to mention the things I made you go through when we were teamed up with Potions. And we're still friends, aren't we?"

"That's something entirely different," Sirius muttered, but Remus shook his head.

"Not entirely. Different, but not that much more different." Sirius tore his eyes from the reflection and looked at the real Remus. His thin profile was still sharp as a knife-cut, lit from the side Sirius was standing on and cast into shadow from the dark side of the room.

"What are you trying to say, Moony? Okay, you bit me, but I almost made you eat Snape. And I've hit you too, and because of me you broke your leg last year…but that's something different than willingly killing more than a hundred creatures to gain immortality."

"You'd refuse, if someone offered you immortality?" Remus smiled. "I wouldn't. Even with my curse, I'd grasp the opportunity to become immortal with both hands."

"Would you kill for it, then?"

"I don't know. Maybe." A soft chuckle escaped Sirius's throat.

"Dream on, Remus. You wouldn't be able to kill an ant if you had to. You conscience is way too prominent to let you live with a crime like that on your head. Imagine, you'd live forever feeling guilty all the time. You'd commit suicide within a week."

"So you wouldn't kill for immortality."

"I don't know. I don't think so." He took a deep breath. "Do you want to know what I saw in the Mirror when I did my little experiment?" 

Remus made an inquiring sound.

"I saw…the moment I looked into Lily's little mirror, I first thought that nothing had changed. We were still standing there, the five, no, six of us: you and James, Peter, Lily, Cynthia and me. But then I saw you all…die. In a terrible…way. There was blood all over you, and James looked as if he were really, really ill, and Peter…But that wasn't what was so terrible. It was the fact that I knew that it was my fault. That I was the one responsible for your deaths."

"It was just…"

"It was just a stupid hex," Sirius interrupted him harshly, "but only a few days afterwards you became ill, and I don't know if you know how close you came to dying, but damn it, Remus, it was so close! Too damn close by half. I was so…I was scared, you know. That I'd done something that would kill you, and later would somehow kill one of the others. I saw the world in silver half of the time, even though Dumbledore had taken the curse from my eyes long ago." His eyes strayed back to the Mirror, where Cynthia made small braids in her golden hair.

"It's a bit of a shock to find that the one that you love is responsible for your nightmares coming true. And for that, and for what she did to you and to the animals in the Forest, I hate her. But at the same time I still…miss her. Want her."

"It's a Mirror of Desire, after all," said Remus, half-flippantly, half seriously. "And she was lovely."

            They were silent for a while, staring into the Mirror, shoulders barely touching. Finally Sirius cleared his throat.

"Why did you want me to come anyway?" Remus smiled.

"I didn't want to come on my own. And I thought…well, the last few weeks we've continually misunderstood each other, and I barked at you and behaved like a selfish git. So I wanted to talk to you. And I wanted your support," he added quickly, before Sirius could speak, "In case I'd flip after looking into the Mirror. So you see, it was purely for selfish reasons that I tagged you along."

"I've been just as selfish as you, if not worse," Sirius insisted on being repentant. "After all, you were right from the beginning."

"Oh please," Remus whined, "Don't start again! I just told you I was sorry, and it's taken me quite some time to get that out, so please don't spoil it by saying it was your fault."

Sirius grinned, like a flash of sunlight.

"I didn't say that."

"Ah." They both chuckled. Then Sirius once again studied his friend's profile.

"So why did you think you'd flip if you looked into the Mirror? And what did you see? Why'd you want to see it anyway?"

"Because I wanted to check on something. My…desires, I guess. And I didn't think I'd flip out. I just didn't want to go alone." Sirius frowned.

"Why not?"

"Because sometimes seeing your desires doesn't make you happy. Especially if you can't have what you want. That's why I didn't want to go back when you and Peter found it again. I'd finally forgotten the blasted thing with its promise of an ordinary, painless life." For the first time since they'd entered the room, he met Sirius's eyes and what he read in them made him smile wryly.

"I hate the pain and the humiliation of it, Padfoot. I hate everything of my curse. Everything. I still hate it now I've got you and the others to run with me every month. Don't get me wrong, I love going into the Forest and exploring the Map, but I still hate being a werewolf. I hate it now, but it almost killed me when I was younger. And the Mirror…it showed me a life without the curse, without the pain and the fear. It almost broke me, when I saw that. I wanted to be normal so badly…"

"And now?"

Remus blushed a little.

"The only one I saw in the Mirror was me. Just me. It could have been an ordinary mirror for my reflection."

"And that means what? That you've finally accepted Moony?"

"It means that I'm worth something as Moony," the other boy said softly. "That even though he's dangerous, he, no, I, can help you too, if needs be. Even though it's my fault that Cynthia got caught, and that you had to let her go—it hasn't necessarily been a bad thing. Right?"

"I guess not…"

The blush grew more vivid. Sirius sighed, then shook his head.

"Look. I'm not particularly grateful to you for leading us to Voldemort and his little conspiracy, even if it is for the greater good. But that doesn't mean that I don't appreciate you. We all do, werewolf or not. Hell, we don't know you in any other way, Remus. You wouldn't be the man you are if you weren't one. And if Moony's a bit rough, well, I can handle that. You shouldn't blame yourself for things that aren't your fault and can't be helped anyway." He grinned suddenly.

"Wise lessons from James Potter, taught to myself just before we almost killed ourselves diving two men a broom from the Astronomy Tower."

Remus didn't grin.

"You still _blame_ me for what's happened?" he asked thinly, and suddenly Sirius finally saw why Remus had been so angry with him all the time, and so—in Sirius's eyes—selfish about the whole Cynthia business. He knew that Sirius blamed him—not himself, as James thought, but Moony. And MOONY, not Remus—directly for all that had happened: Sirius's own unhappiness, and Cynthia's escape and now imprisonment.

"Oh hell, Remus…" He turned away from the Mirror, clasped the boy's thin arms in his hands. "No, I don't blame you. I'm just…adapting, you know. I feel really shitty about this whole thing, and…" he sighed. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to take it out on you."

"You haven't. That's what worries me." A lopsided grin crawled up Sirius's face.

"Have you ever been in love?"

"No."

"But Julie…"

"Lust."

"Still, you like her."

"Yeah…"

"If she found out you were a werewolf, and screamed it out in front of the whole school from the top of the Astronomy tower, then slipped and fell to her death, wouldn't you be sad?"

Remus blinked.

"I don't know," he confessed. "I really wouldn't know. But what's that got to do with you not taking it out on me?" Sirius sighed.

"I'm still adapting," he repeated. "Still figuring out how much of me is sad and how much of me is angry. I expect the anger to win out in the end, but now…"

"You're still suffering from a broken heart." Remus finished. He managed to stay serious for three more seconds before starting to giggle. "Sorry."

"I knew I should have confided in Lily," Sirius muttered. "She, at least, understands my tortured soul."

Remus huffed.

"Padfoot, if there is someone in this school who understands tortured souls, it's me. I'm as tortured as they come."

"That's not what the Mirror said," Sirius retorted, pointing his thumb at the Mirror of Erised, shining innocently against the wall. "Mirror, Mirror on the wall, who's the most tortured soul of them all?—well, it ain't you for sure, mate. So sorry to disappoint you."

Remus fixed him with a stare.

"Let's leave the Mirror out of this, shall we." Sirius grinned, evilly and wholly like himself.

"Yes, let's. Shall we go and see whether your blackmail was successful?" 

The word 'blackmail' made Remus's large mouth curl like a cat's.

"Okay," he said, and following Sirius, he closed the door to the Mirror quietly and carefully behind his back.

So. That's it. Please tell me what you think about it. In a few weeks I think I'll re-edit the whole thing—I have a Beta now! Wheee! And post the whole thing again. I will probably take all the author notes out, though. I will write a sequel, I just don't know when it will be finished. I'll try as soon as I can. I will not, however, send it to people separately because I know I'll forget it some day (I use several computers to update and write, and to email, so I lose email addressed frequently) Just check the Net now and then and you'll find any newly written stuff.

Byez!

Chameleon


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